Seasons
by Onesimus42
Summary: My take on Carson/Hughes relationship. Winner of a Highclere Award.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the beginning of my very long fic that is pretty much how I see the C/H relationship unfolding. It is finished although it needs some editing. The fun part about doing all this before the second series is that pretty much anything goes. We don't **_**know **_**anything yet, so things could happen any way we want. I do admit that if the powers that be don't agree with me, I'll probably refuse to accept their reality in favor of my own. Again, I don't own these guys and will send them on their merry way when I'm finished.**

**PROLOGUE**

Mr. Carson thought as he wearily made his nightly rounds around the house. He thought as he checked each room for any stray wine glasses or untidiness that would have to be taken care of before morning. He thought as he checked and locked each door. This was no different from his usual evening routine except tonight he had rather more to think about. Her Ladyship had miscarried the likely future heir of Downton, and his heart went out to the Earl and his wife. To have one's hopes raised and then dashed so completely must have been devastating. Of course, Elsie had said that before he thought it. Elsie, specifically her emotional state, was foremost in his thoughts. They'd all been upset by the news, except Thomas of course (privately he congratulated William on the black eye he'd managed to give him), but Elsie had seemed especially distraught. She'd been heartbroken over the 'poor wee babe', and Thomas' comments had only seemed to make her feel worse. He'd left her in her parlor so that he could take care of Dr. Clarkson's arrival and departure and planned to join her again. He had no intention of allowing her to sleep alone in the state she was in. The other thought that was tickling his mind was a comment from Dr. Clarkson as he left; he'd asked that Mrs. Hughes speak with her Ladyship in a few days. Why would he single out Elsie in particular? Surely any woman could empathize with the loss of a child and it wasn't as if Elsie had ever been … His thoughts trailed off and then suddenly a great number of things seemed to fall into place, but they still didn't make any sense. _"Charlie, my boy, you have been a very stupid man!" _he thought as he hurriedly finished his rounds and went in search of answers.

He entered her parlor without knocking. No one else would be so bold especially at this hour. She looked up only briefly from her intense study of the rug. Crossing to her he knelt before her so that he could look in her eyes. "You miscarried our child," he stated flatly. As she looked up at him sharply, he took her arms. "That is what you couldn't tell me that first summer after we were together. Why didn't you tell me, love?" he asked gently. As he noticed the tears shining in her eyes and spilling onto her cheeks, he knew he was going to have to wait for his answers. Pulling her against his chest he waited while she cried six years of tears and shed a few tears of his own for a loss he hadn't known.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Downton Abbey Spring, 1902**_

At age 44, Charles Carson was a bit young to be butler of a household as large as Downton Abbey, but he had already held that job as well as his employer's trust for just over 10 years. He strove to run a tight staff. One of his most stringent rules, one that he was regretting a little at the moment, was that no member of the household was to fraternize with one at a different level from oneself. In his 24 years of service, he had seen too many first footmen, valets, or even butlers use their positions to all but force themselves on lowly kitchen maids or second housemaids. He had even seen it happen in this household to his everlasting shame, before he became butler that is. The reason that he was regretting that rule at the moment was the new head housemaid, Elsie Hughes. At first she seemed to be a bit of a shy lass with a soft Scottish burr, but he was now overhearing (not spying, after all he had a right to know what was going on in his household) this shy, Scottish lass peel the ears of a flirtatious footman back in no uncertain terms. "Good girl", he thought with satisfaction as he decided to rescue the footman by stepping into the room, effectively ending her tirade.

After the offending footman was hurried off to polish silver, Carson turned to Miss Hughes to apologize for the offensive behavior. _"She is lovely"_ was his first thought. His second was that he had neglected to say anything and was standing there like a dumbstruck ox. Recovering himself he apologized, "I am sorry, Miss Hughes, but when a beautiful young woman comes into a new home, I am afraid nearly all the young men are sure to vie for her affections."

He flushed a little, realizing that he had just called her beautiful. He hoped she would not think he was flirting with her though he longed to do so. He really had no desire for her to unleash her temper on him. Instead, she blushed slightly, looking at the floor as she spoke, "I thank you for the compliment, sir, but I think it would be this way with almost anyone new. Seems men get a bit bored looking at the same girls all the time and are always attracted to the newest ones. I've found that setting the first one or two firmly in their place seems to reduce the flood." Then she looked up into his eyes and smiled. In retrospect, he believed that was the precise moment that she took hold of his heart forever.

"_I don't think I would ever get bored of looking into your beautiful brown eyes,"_ he thought but thank God did not say as he did seem to still have some control over his tongue if not other parts of his person. What he said was, "That is very wise, Miss Hughes. Carry on." And he made a quick and hopefully not completely graceless exit in search of some very cold water. Oh yes, that was a stupid, stupid rule, but he would abide by it.

Abiding by that rule meant that his options for romantic liaisons among the staff were limited to Mrs. Patmore, the cook, who was red-faced and loud and still tended to treat him as a second footman, or Mrs. Dunmore, the housekeeper, who was old enough to be his mother. No, no temptation on either front there, he thought wryly. He hadn't missed romance much. Oh like just about everyone else, he had had the odd dalliance when he first went into service with this or that maid, but he didn't really have much free time and when he did have time to himself tended to spend it away from the house and the members of it.

He hadn't missed romance much that is before Elsie Bloody Hughes had come into his life. Now, he found himself thinking of her entirely too much. He avoided her as much as possible, but it seemed that he was always bumping into her, literally at times in hallways. There was even a time when he started up the back stairs, and she presented a delightful sight at almost eye level that he nearly broke down and told her how he felt. He studiously avoided following her up the stairs after that incident. He would look up at something someone said at mealtimes and catch her eye, or he would just see her looking at him while he was speaking to someone else. She had even invaded his dreams. She was very distracting. She was smart. She was funny. She was beautiful. She was going to drive him completely and utterly insane. Thank goodness for the "season" which was fast approaching that would take him to London, but leave her at Downton.

He left for that season in London for the first time regretting what he was leaving behind in Downton. He usually looked forward to going to Grantham Hall. The household was smaller and as a consequence did not require as much management on his part. The family would be out many evenings at parties or balls leaving him with a great deal of time to himself. He was able to attend the races, dance halls, and even an occasional concert or play. Overall, it was usually a very pleasant experience. This year, however, he found himself missing Miss Elsie Hughes. She really was very intelligent and funny. He always appreciated the contributions she made to the conversation at table and in the hall. He had also noted that she appeared to have a very kind disposition. The under maids all seemed to come to her when they needed a shoulder to cry on or advice. Even some of the younger footmen sought her out not with romance in mind, but as one might an older sister. Yes, she was overall one of the finest people he'd ever met, and he was missing her very much.

"_Stop it, Charlie; you're going to drive yourself crazy!" _He tried to get some control over his confused thoughts. He needed to spend these months in London controlling his thoughts of the beautiful housemaid, or he was going to make a very stupid and costly mistake. And so that is what he did. He spent a little bit more time at the pub than was probably wise and definitely drank more than was wise. He even tried to chat up a couple of girls, but then he noticed that all the ones he chose had brown eyes which were a poor substitute for the real thing. He returned to Downton Abbey in July with a new determination to avoid any entanglement with Miss Elsie Hughes.

He was moderately successful. He was able to converse with Miss Hughes as he would any other member of the staff, and he only occasionally had to retreat to his pantry or room to douse himself with cold water. Friendship grew up between them as they seemed to have similar senses of humor, and she seemed to enjoy his company at least a little. He avoided any romantic overtures but found that he could not deny himself the pleasure of an occasional conversation. The only area over which he had absolutely no control was his dreams (and being honest with himself, he had no real desire to banish her from those). However, his heart became more and more entangled with hers every day. And so, he spent the next five years in a very sweet torture of loving a woman desperately while having to pretend that he did not, with his only respite being the months spent in London each season.

This torture was interrupted somewhat unexpectedly by the prospect of Mrs. Dunmore retiring. Although she was probably nearer 70 than 60, she seemed to be a fixture in the household and showed no signs of slowing down. However, events moved along a little suddenly when her sister's husband died, and Mrs. Dunmore felt a need to return to Manchester to provide companionship for the new widow. Lord Grantham was particularly busy at this time and called Carson to his library to discuss the search for a replacement.

"Ought we to advertise, or is there someone on staff who might take the position? Mrs. Dunmore suggested the head housemaid, Elsie, I believe. Would she be appropriate? I must confess that I dread the thought of advertising and interviewing candidates. If you believe she could do the job well, I would be glad to give it to her."

Carson mentally blessed Mrs. Dunmore and took a deep breath as he considered. Was he letting his personal feelings interfere with his judgment in any way? Privately, his heart soared at the thought of Miss Hughes in that position, but he did not want to let his employer down. No, he thought of her intelligence and her kind way with the younger members of the staff, she would be excellent in the position of housekeeper. "I believe, sir, that if she were to accept the position you would be most fortunate and would not regret your decision."

That was how, on January 11, 1907, he found himself sitting in the housekeeper's parlor across from Mrs. Hughes (housekeepers are _always_ Mrs.) reviewing the events of the day and plans for tomorrow. She was now his equal in position, and the rules no longer applied. He was free to pursue her romantically. He just needed to figure out exactly how he was going to win her heart without losing her friendship.


	3. Chapter 3

Mrs. Hughes peered over her teacup at the man sitting in her armchair. _"Happy Birthday to me!" _she thought. She was delighted and a little flustered to have him to herself, even if it was just to discuss business. She had admired him for the five years she had worked at Downton and had to admit that working more closely with him was part of what made the position of housekeeper attractive. "_Gather your thoughts girl, or you're going to make a fool of yourself!"_ So, gathering those thoughts, she finished the discussion, and her tea, and hurried the man out of her room before she said something foolish.

This attraction to Charles Carson was not a new occurrence. No, she could recall the precise moment she had fallen head over heels for the blasted man. She had been new at Downton and was being pursued hot and heavy by one of the footmen. Mr. Carson came to her rescue just as she was telling the young octopus off for what seemed like the tenth time. In some backhanded way, Mr. Carson had called her beautiful, and she tried to make some witty reply. It wasn't his compliment that overwhelmed her, however. She looked up into his eyes, and he smiled at her. Her heart actually skipped a beat, and in retrospect, that was probably the last moment it was her own.

She began to seek him out then. She would find ways to "bump" into him in corridors. She found ways to be just ahead of him on the stairs at times and once had been rewarded by hearing a sharp intake of breath. She caught his eye at mealtimes and found that she could not keep her eyes off him. In general, she was making a complete fool of herself over him, and he hardly seemed to notice. He seemed to almost actively avoid her. She was quite frankly very put out with the man, all the while ready to jump into his arms at a moment's notice. She was altogether the most confused and frustrated that she had ever been, and she felt like a very silly, wanton woman. She was both grateful and disappointed that the London season was approaching, and he would be safely many miles away.

This was her first season at Downton, but she had been in service for awhile and knew somewhat what to expect. She usually enjoyed this down time at the country houses. One could accomplish many tasks that were put off while the family was there. While the staff was still very busy, they could move around the house freely without the need to avoid notice. This year, however, she found herself to be distracted. She caught herself daydreaming far too often about Charles Bloody Carson.

She had to admit to herself that she had the most abominable crush on the man. She prided herself that she was not completely shallow. It was not just his rare smiles or deep, rumbling voice that attracted her (although if he ever said anything remotely suggestive to her in that voice, she would probably jump in his lap). She also noted that he had a dry sense of humor which complimented her own. He seemed able to diffuse tense situations among the staff and actively encouraged a good working rapport. She very much appreciated the tight rein he seemed to keep on the amorous attentions of the male staff. It was a pleasant change to be able to work without having to worry about having one's bottom pinched. If only he seemed to be more of the bottom pinching type.

"_Really, Elsie, forget the man! He's obviously not interested in you." _But that was just the problem, wasn't it? She kept getting the impression that he was very interested in her. A slight widening of his smile when he caught her eye and a subtle deepening of his voice when he was speaking to her made her believe that he found her attractive as well. There was also the time when she was walking ahead of him on the back stairs and heard a gasp that was almost a groan and turned to see him standing with his eyes closed. When she asked if he was hurt, he just urged her to go on. But if he was interested in her, why was he waiting to do anything about his feelings?

She received her answer from an unexpected source, Mrs. Dunmore and Mrs. Patmore. One night, when the few men who were left had slipped down to the village pub, several of the women of the staff were sitting around the table drinking tea with just a little added Scottish spice. As often happens when women are together, the conversation turned to the men of the household. While they were discussing the attractions and detractions of the various footmen, she felt herself perk up a bit at the mention of Mr. Carson.

"Don't misunderstand me, Mrs. Patmore," Mrs. Dunmore was saying. "I'm very glad to have Mr. Carson as our butler; he's a far sight better than Mr. Carter, that's for certain. I was just saying that it's a shame that he doesn't have more opportunity to meet a nice young girl. He's a good man and deserves someone to make him happy."

"But why can't he?" she found herself asking. "There are certainly enough women here for him to choose from".

Mrs. Dunmore looked at her with a raised eyebrow and appraising gaze. "My dear," she began, "you've not been here long enough to know about "the rule". It is rather an unspoken rule but an unbreakable one as far as Mr. Carson is concerned."

Then Mrs. Patmore interjected, "Haven't you noticed that there's not quite as much of the 'bump and tickle' amongst the staff as at other great houses?"

"Go on", she urged.

"Well, we had a very good butler; Mr. Jerkyns. Charles was like a son to him, and he was being trained to be butler. When he died, the Earl, the present Earl's father, thought Charles was too young, so he hired a butler from a different house," Mrs. Dunmore explained, "He was, there's no way to put this delicately; a leech. He, well, let's just say that he and one of the kitchen maids married fairly quickly, and left service."

"They had a child in seven months," Mrs. Patmore said with a wink, "weighed nine pounds."

"I tried to watch him," Mrs. Dunmore said regretfully,"I still don't know where he found the time. Well, anyway, one of the first things he made clear when he took over was 'the rule'. Any romantic involvement amongst the staff was to be discouraged, but most especially one was not to use any influence arising from being at a higher station to take advantage of another."

"That's sure left poor Charles out in the cold!" Mrs. Patmore said with a snort, "The only ones who could be considered to be of his station would be Mrs. Dunmore or meself, and I would expect to see her Ladyship scrubbing floors before he'd be interested in either of us."

"I'd have his head examined if he ever took a shine to me", Mrs. Dunmore laughed, "I must be nearly 20 years older than him."

After that, the conversation, but not Elsie's thoughts, turned away from Charles Carson.

Later that night, while she was lying wide awake on top of her sheets, Charles Carson very much filled her thoughts. _"What a fool I've been!" _she thought. He might be very interested in her, he could even be madly in love with her, but she knew him well enough now to know that he would sooner cut off his right arm than break a rule he'd set for himself. Integrity can be very bothersome at times. He would never approach her as long as she was head housemaid and he was the butler. That left her with three options. Becoming the cook was out; she was not going to spend all day in a hot kitchen. She could either quit Downton Abbey which would likely mean never seeing him again (also, not an option), or she could become the housekeeper. She resolved to do just that.

In the meantime, she would have to stay somewhat out of his way for her own sanity. If he was not interested in her, staying away from him would save her making herself a fool. If he was interested, as she suspected, then distancing herself should make it a little easier on him as well. She really had no desire to torture the dear man. Well, not much anyway.

The next five years passed with no breakdown on either his or her part. She did not actively avoid him, but did not look for ways to "bump" into him. She was able to look him in the eye without blushing. She was able to converse with him about work and sometimes not work. She discovered that he was quite pleasant company at times, but she made sure not to spend too much time with him. She never could quite get used to the voice, though. She thought it would be much easier to forget him if he didn't have a voice that made her want to purr like a kitten. Perhaps, she could be forgiven if she occasionally walked ahead of him on the stairs, just to remind herself of her own powers over him.

It was Charles who came to fetch her to speak with his Lordship about the housekeeper's position. He seemed quite pleased with himself, and there was a nervousness to his behavior that she had never noticed before. "I hope you realize what a wonderful opportunity this is, Miss Hughes," he was saying as he led her up the back stairs. _Led_ she noted. No way was he going to let her get ahead of him this time. "I assure you that I am aware of the compliment, Mr. Carson.", she replied.

The interview was over fairly quickly. It seemed that Lord Grantham had already decided, and the interview was a mere formality. She stepped out in the hall to find Mr. Carson waiting for her, with an agitated air. He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. She nodded with a smile, "I am to be the new housekeeper of Downton Abbey. I'll be taking over my new duties just after the holidays. Mrs. Dunmore wants to spend one more Christmas here."

Mr. Carson smiled broadly and took her hand. "Let me be the first to congratulate you, Mrs. Hughes", he said as he bent over her hand and kissed it. It seemed that Christmas had come early for them both.


	4. Chapter 4

**This is not new, just augmented a little at the end. A very faithful reviewer felt that it ended a little abruptly. When I looked back at it I thought it did, too. I just felt that I had to add this as a thank you to her and in my own OCD need to have it right. (I'm having to restrain myself from going back to correct spelling mistakes in other completed fics.)**

With their new found freedom to explore their feelings for each other, they both found it surprisingly difficult to do so. After five years of forceful restraint on his actions toward her, he needed to find a way to let her know how he felt without coming on too strongly. His strongest desire was to throw her over his shoulder, carry her up to his room, and make love to her all night. Chuckling to himself, he wondered if that would be considered "too strong". Somehow, he would have to find a happy middle road. None of this was helped by the fact that he just did not have that much experience at romance.

On her part, she was still somewhat frazzled by learning her new position and exerting her authority without being too overbearing. Of course, Mrs. Patmore was not being at all helpful. Somehow, she seemed to think that just because Mrs. Hughes was new to her position, she would gladly relinquish control of the store closet to her. Really, did she think she'd just fallen off the turnip cart yesterday? Add to that the sudden ability to be more open about her feelings for Mr. Carson and her increased interaction with him, and she was exhausted by the end of her first month as the housekeeper of Downton Abbey.

Thankfully, on February 14, it seemed that she was going to have an evening to herself. The family was out. Most of the staff had gone down to the village to spend time either with each other or town sweethearts. She was just as strict about gentlemen callers as Mr. Carson was with his rule. Young people were young people, however, and there was a certain degree of pairing off. She didn't mind really. Not everyone was cut out for a life in service and even those who were could often find positions that would allow them to be married. For her part though, she had never seen the point of Valentine's Day. It seemed just an arbitrary date picked out of thin air. Surely, it would be much more important for a couple to celebrate their love on a day special to just them. That attitude was what found her to be sitting in her parlor with her feet in a pan of hot water, a whiskey and soda in one hand and a book in the other when Mr. Carson chose that moment to call on her romantically for the first time.

She jumped at the knock on the door, splashing whiskey and soda on her dress and water on the floor. "Mrs. Hughes—Elsie-I wonder if I might speak to you for a moment," Charles called through the door. "One moment, please", she answered as she hurried around the room stowing her whiskey tumbler behind a picture of her mother and pushing the pan of water under her sofa. "Blast it all, why oh why did he have to come tonight of all nights?" she muttered to herself as she struggled to get back into her stockings and shoes. He probably just wanted to ask her what candlesticks he should use tomorrow night or some other such nonsense. Blasted, frustrating, lovely man.

She opened the door to find him starting to turn away, flowers in his hand. He turned to her with such a hopeful expression that she forgot to be astonished. "Might I come in? I'm feeling a bit exposed out here in the hall." he almost whispered, rumbled really. Smiling, she opened the door wider in an unspoken invitation.

Once the door was closed, they turned to each other rather awkwardly. Taking a deep breath as though he was about to jump into deep water, he plunged in, "Mrs. Hughes, I-" "Elsie" she corrected with a smile, "you called me Elsie earlier, please continue to do so."

He smiled broadly then and relaxing noticeably, he continued, "_Elsie_, I have come to ask that you would allow me to call on you. I have found myself to be attracted to you for quite some time and am determined that I would like to explore that attraction. I have been trying to find a way to tell you, but I'm afraid I'm not too good at this sort of thing. I don't know any other way than to be straight forward, and so I am here. If you would rather that I not bother you in this way, then you only have to say so, and I will not trouble you again. You don't need to worry that your decision will affect your position here in any way."

Having got through his speech without receiving a sound smack across the face and noticing that her eyes were shining and she seemed to be biting back a smile, he began to be rather hopeful. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until she said one word "Yes".

"Beg pardon?" he asked.

"Yes, I wish that you would bother me in this way."

He unfortunately dropped the lovely bouquet of flowers on the floor as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to him. After they both enjoyed this embrace for a few moments, she began to laugh softly. "What is it?" he asked. "Elsie, please tell me"

"You are very wrong about one thing Mr. Carson"

"Charles", he corrected.

"_Charles," _she began again, "you are quite good at this sort of thing."

Bending then, he began their first kiss which he intended to be a gentlemanly, light kiss. When his lips touched hers, he felt her respond and the kiss quickly deepened. Then he felt other parts of her, soft, lovely round parts, pressed tightly against his chest. Naturally, part of him responded as well, and the gentlemanly, light kiss turned into a prolonged session ending in a little breathlessness on both their parts.

When the kiss had ended, he continued to hold her tightly in his arms and kissed her forehead beginning to chuckle just a little. "Obviously, I'm not too good at this sort of thing. I've dropped your flowers on the floor."

Looking down, she said, "They're lovely flowers. We should put them in some water," not making any move to leave his embrace.

"We probably should," he agreed, tightening his arms around her just a little.

"Where did you get them?" she asked, tilting her head to kiss the side of his neck.

Distracted, he said, "Um, I asked the gardener."

"Really? He usually doesn't like anyone taking flowers," she said working her way from the side of his neck to just below his right ear.

"Well, I did maybe, just a little, deceive him," he answered, kissing her temple lightly.

"You lied?"

"No, not exactly; I told him I needed them to apologize to the housekeeper, who I was afraid I'd offended. I did bring them as an apology to you for bothering you," then continuing with a smile, he said, "You've apparently impressed him with your temper. He offered me cartloads."

Choosing not to be offended, Elsie pulled him to her for another kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

After waiting for so long, they were neither in any real hurry with their newfound relationship. Both were old and wise enough to be conscious of the dangers in a rushed affair. For his part, Charles felt that Elsie was an excellent housekeeper and had no desire to lose her services because of a botched relationship. Elsie on the other hand was more concerned about gossip, and the possibility that others would think she'd become housekeeper solely because of her relationship with the butler. For both these reasons and others, they explored their newfound intimacy cautiously and carefully.

While their positions did not require that they meet daily to review household affairs, it had been his habit to do so with Mrs. Dunmore, and he felt no need to alter that practice. He did have to admit, however, that he never looked forward to his meetings with Mrs. Dunmore with this much enthusiasm. Mrs. Hughes and he would begin by sitting at her desk reviewing the menus and family activities for the following day. While reviewing the business of the household it was strictly Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson. Then, they would review together any problems which cropped up during the day. Any problems usually involved conflicts among the staff. Usually, this would gradually devolve into a bit of complaining and laughing over the various foibles of the staff.

The "business" side of the evening was over whenever one or the other slipped and used a first name. There was no set rule about when or how this occurred, it simply happened. When she said his name he forgot all about the silly staff and Downton Abbey, and he was simply her Charles. He suspected by her smiles and that she felt the same when he called her Elsie.

At this point, they would usually move to the sofa. They would sit holding hands or more often with his arm around her shoulders gathering her close. He was anxious to know as much about her as possible and enjoyed hearing of her life in Argyle. He was also surprised by how easily she was able to pull details about a life he'd rather not discuss out of him.

She had grown up as a farmer's daughter and had wanted anything but that life for herself. It was a hard life, and it had bothered her to see her mother old before her time from overwork. While service was hard, one never had to worry about a roof over one's head or food on the table. She had worked for two other families before coming to Downton, but this was the best run house by far. She told him stories of amorous footmen at the other houses who had thought to take liberties. They hadn't reckoned with the righteous temper of a Scots woman. He was torn between pride at her handling of the situations and an unreasonable desire to punch a few footmen in the nose.

He, on the other hand, had been born the son of a groom and a housemaid at a house not too far away. He'd been determined for as long as he could remember to not be in service. To be at another's beck and call all day was certainly not to his taste. His father had died when he was 12, and his mother came here to be housekeeper. He'd worked as boot black and then hall boy until he'd left at the ripe old age of 16 with no intention of ever returning. He remembered, to his shame, that he'd told his mother he'd rather starve than be a servant. Working various odd jobs around theaters and dance halls, he'd met Charlie Griggs. A partnership with him had seemed like a good idea at the time. He'd sung, danced, juggled, and performed a few magic tricks. This revelation was met with some disbelief on her part until he gave a demonstration, after she promised complete secrecy of course. It was not long before he realized that Griggs seemed to do rather less of the work and ended up with rather more of the money. The last straw was when Griggs was caught stealing money, and they'd both been blamed. He found himself out of a job and soon out of money. A mere four years after he'd left home, he came back eating his words about preferring to starve rather than serve because he didn't have anything else to eat. His mother spoke to Mr. Jerkyns, the butler here at the time, who'd reluctantly given him a job. He had worked at Downton ever since.

The stories of their lives did not come out all at once, of course, but were spread over many evenings. They were usually told in the form of amusing anecdotes and sometimes rather sad ones. She heard for instance of how his mother had worked up until the day before she died, and of his finding her in her room when she didn't come down for the day. He listened while she discussed her father's rough treatment of her mother, which contributed to her desire to never marry a farmer.

During all these evenings, there was rarely anything more physical than his arm around her shoulders and stroking her arm with his hand while she snuggled in the crook of his neck and rubbed his upper chest. When they did kiss there was a deliberate restraint on his part. He was all too aware that the season was fast approaching, and he wanted to wait until his return to carry their relationship farther.

"You know that we leave for London in one week, don't you?" he began one night.

"Don't remind me. I am deliberately trying to forget that for now. I want to be able to enjoy you without thinking of the future."

This comment was followed by some mutual enjoyment that started to go just a little bit farther than he wanted. He pushed her away gently.

"Elsie," he began again "the future is just what I want us both to think about."

That caused her to sit up and pay attention. "I think you should probably explain what you mean by that", she said cautiously.

He was aware that he was treading on dangerous ground, but there was nothing for it but to plunge ahead. "I could now, if you chose to end this relationship, with considerable difficulty go back to simply a business relationship with you. If we go any farther, physically I mean, I do not believe that I could do that."

"What makes you think I would ever want to end this relationship?"

"Nothing makes me think that you would, I just want us both to be very sure before we take the next step, and I thought that the time apart would be a good time to think about _us_."

"I am sure." At his surprised look, she felt the need to continue, "Charles, you dear, dear man I have loved you almost since I first met you. I have spent the last five and a half years falling more and more in love with you. I've never been surer of anything in my life." She finished with a laugh.

His response was immediate and almost overwhelming. She fell back against the sofa while he kissed her with a passion that was both exciting and a little frightening. It was several minutes before he pulled back to give her a chance to breathe.

"So you are sure too?" she asked a little breathlessly. He chuckled in response while kissing the hollow of her neck and stroking the side of her breast. "Yes, dear Elsie, yes."

At that it was her turn to kiss him with a passion that nearly overwhelmed all his defenses. He was Charles Carson, however, and once decided on a course of action, could not easily be deterred. After several delightful minutes, he pulled gently but firmly away.

She looked at him with a mixture of confusion, frustration, and not a little anger. _"Tread carefully, Charlie me boy, tread carefully." _he thought.

"Elsie, please understand, I want very much to make love to you. As a matter of fact, it is fast becoming almost all I think about, but I love you too much for our first time together to be hurried fumblings on a sofa with me leaving you in just a week. "

She softened a little at this thought. "So, you'd rather spend three frustrating months in London wondering what it might be like."

"Yes, if it means that I can make our first night a special one away from this house and the gossip."

She wondered how it was possible to be so delighted with someone while at the same time wanting to beat them soundly. She gave a frustrated sigh, "How could I argue with that? You win. We wait."


	6. Chapter 6

Two weeks later found a frustrated butler sitting in a pub in London wondering just how he was going to make that first night special. He was feeling very foolish for refusing to make love to Elsie when he had the chance. _"What kind of idiot passes up a chance like that?" _he wondered. He chuckled, _"The kind named Charlie Carson, obviously_." He wondered how it was possible to be so completely miserable when every other season he had been delighted for the break and diversions London provided. It probably had something to do with the fact that there was nothing in London as exciting as the sight of Elsie Hughes with her hair down, face flushed, top buttons undone, and lips reddened from kissing. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He was going to have to stop thinking in such a way, or this was going to be a very long season.

Instead of dwelling on these pleasant thoughts, he began to plan. Looking at a rail map, he decided on a likely town. It was a large enough to have several inns which would provide for some privacy. It was far enough away from Downton so that there would be little chance of running into anyone they knew. It was easily reached by rail from both Downton and London. This would be the perfect place to meet.

His plans involved a certain amount of deception on both their parts. He intended to ask His Lordship for a bit of time off to see family just prior to the return to Downton. They could spend a few days together, and then he could return to the Abbey a few days early to ensure that the move went smoothly. He would ask Elsie to do the same. Although, since she was effectively in charge at Downton for the moment, he supposed she would simply be asking herself for the time off. Always wanting to follow propriety, she did write to His Lordship seeking his permission for a few days off to visit her sister.

"Mrs. Hughes is going to visit family as well it seems," his Lordship told him one morning. "Hopefully, she'll be back in time for you to accomplish the move back to Downton together. How is she working out, by the way? Her Ladyship seems to be happy with her management of the house. What do you think of her?"

Carson assured Lord Grantham that he thought very highly of Mrs. Hughes, that she was doing a fine job, and that he was sure she would be back in time to smooth the transition back to Downton Abbey. Lord Grantham smiled slightly at that, and Charles hoped he didn't suspect anything.

Once a telegram was sent securing a room at a likely inn for the desired dates, Charles settled down to wait for the end of this very long season.

He made certain that he took an early enough train to arrive before her, not wanting her to wander around a strange train station looking for him. Standing anxiously on the platform waiting to see her again, he hoped she hadn't changed her mind. Especially since he had only reserved one room, he smiled to himself. He was most unaccountably nervous. She was no different from the woman he had left behind. Her letters had assured him of that. It was almost worth being apart to receive such letters, almost, but not quite. Where was that blasted train? Shouldn't it have been here by now? Just as he was about to start cursing the timeliness of the English and the English rail system in particular, the train pulled into the station. His height provided him the advantage of a clear view of the train over everyone's heads, so he saw her the moment she stepped off. She was carrying a small bag and wearing a lovely hat, but his attention was focused on her eyes which were searching the platform for him. He walked purposefully toward her, but she still didn't see him. He had almost reached her when she turned to look the other way. He grasped the handle of her valise to take it from her, and she turned to him in surprise. The forcefulness with which she threw herself into his arms left him with no doubt that she was the same woman he'd left behind.

The ride to the inn in a cab was short but pleasant. He left his arm around her shoulders as he couldn't seem to keep his hands or his eyes off her. She seemed to feel the same and never stopped smiling. "Honeymooners, are you?" the cabbie asked as he stopped the horses. "What? Oh yes, yes we are." Charles replied. "Thought so. I can spot them a mile off. Well, here we are. Congratulations to you sir and best wishes to you ma'am," The cabbie said as he let them out at their inn.

They stood in front of the inn for a few moments looking at each other. "Honeymooners?" she asked with a smile.

"Elsie is there any need to pretend why we are here?" he asked seriously.

"No, I suppose not," she replied, blushing.

Taking her elbow, he guided her into a small alleyway beside the inn. "Are you still sure Elsie? I only have one room reserved for us, but if you'd rather you can stay here, and I'll try to find another place to stay."

Reaching up to pull him down to her for a kiss, she said, "Charles, I believe that I have told you that I've never been surer of anything in my life."

Smiling, they walked into the inn. He approached the desk and asked for the room reserved for Mr. and Mrs. Charles Carson. The innkeeper took one look at them and said, "Honeymooners, are you? Well, I suppose you'll be wanting a plate of sandwiches brought up later."

"That would be most welcome, sir," Charles replied.

He supposed his astonishment must have shown because the innkeeper then explained, "We have several honeymooners come through here. There's some as want to be left to themselves and some who'll come down to the dining room at every opportunity. I doubt we'll see you two until you're ready to check out," he added with an appraising glance. Even Charles blushed at that.


	7. Chapter 7

**If you've not noticed the rating on this story, you might want to go back and take a peek. This is the chapter where it starts to earn that rating. If you're not into it, you might want to skip the next few chapters, actually, because this is a 4 day trip for these guys. **

Charles turned the key in the lock and placed it on the table beside the door. He turned to Elsie who was removing her hat. He stood for a moment just looking at her. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

"That I am grateful to finally be alone with you, Elsie."

"Me too, but I have to admit that I'm a bit nervous. I've never done anything like this before."

"Do you suppose this is a common practice for me?" he asked.

"Well, is it?" she returned.

"Elsie, I have been with other women, but never many and not for over five years. Once I'd met you no other woman seemed to measure up. But I've never been with a woman like this before, because I've never felt about a woman like I feel about you."

She stepped into his arms then, and they stood holding each other for a long while.

"Does it bother you that we're not married?" he asked.

"No, I've never felt like this before. My heart is wedded to yours. A piece of paper wouldn't change that."

After a few moments, he drew himself up to his full height, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I, Charles Carson, take thee, Elsie Hughes, to be my wife. I promise to love, honor, and cherish you in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, as long as we both shall live."

Elsie stared at him for a moment with shining eyes before saying, "I, Elsie Hughes, take thee, Charles Carson, to be my husband. I promise to love, honor, and cherish you in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, as long as we both shall live."

"You forgot obey," he said with a smile.

"Deliberately, dear man, deliberately," she replied as she pulled him down for another kiss.

There was no more nervousness after that, simply holding, touching and whispering of how they'd missed each other and their love for each other.

After a while, she pulled back. At his look of disappointment, she smiled and said demurely "Charles, it was a long, dirty journey here, and I'd like to wash the train off before I get ready for bed." That last was said with just the slightest emphasis.

He brightened considerably and said, "Yes, of course, I'd like to wash up a bit as well."

Being a man, it took him considerably less time than it did Elsie. Coming back to the room, he stared at the bed awkwardly. It was the only piece of furniture in the room that one could rest on save a straight backed chair in the corner that didn't look too comfortable. He was faced with a quandary about what to do. Should he lie down? No, that was too suggestive. Should he sit on the bed? That seemed awkward. Should he just stand here like a big, dumb ox? He was saved from any further wonderings by the door opening softly behind him.

He turned to see Elsie standing there in her nightdress and robe with her traveling dress draped over her arm. He reached out to pull her gently into the room, and then left her for a moment to lock the door. As he was locking the door, she hung her dress in the wardrobe next to his suit. Turning back toward her, he saw their clothes hanging together. Oddly, since they were both standing there in their nightclothes, their clothes hanging together seemed to be the most intimate thing he'd ever seen. He stepped over to his wife, his Elsie, and pulled her into his arms. After a few moments, she led him to the bed where they slipped their robes off before snuggling under the covers.

Once they were lying down, it seemed that he could not touch her enough. Kissing her urgently, he stroked her arms and sides. His fingers brushed her neck and his lips soon followed. With his hand on her lower back, he pulled her tight against him so that their bodies were melded to each other. She gasped a little and her eyes widened at feeling his desire. Lifting her hands to his chest, she unbuttoned his shirt slowly and tortuously, taking her time to stroke the hairs on his chest, gray he noted absently, and kiss his nipples. When he groaned in pleasure, she only went slower, smiling wickedly. "Witch," he whispered, running his hand up the back of her thigh, eyes widening as he realized that she was wearing nothing under her nightdress. She gasped and jumped slightly bringing herself into closer contact with him. It was his turn to grin wickedly.

He unbuttoned the neck of her nightdress and kissed the hollow of her throat. As he released each button he kissed farther down her neck, until he was kissing the valley between her breasts. Sitting her up gently, his hands grasped the bottom of her nightdress to pull it over her head. He laid her back on the bed and smiled down at her. "Beautiful woman, I do love you," he said happily. Seeing the glow in his eyes, she believed him. She tugged a little at the waistband of his trousers, "Please, Charles." He was perfectly happy to comply with her request and was quickly lying nude in her arms.

She pushed herself toward him, pressing her center against him. He groaned as his head spun a little with his need for release. He was determined, however, to satisfy her needs as well. "Elsie, darling, slow down or else this'll be over too quick."

Kissing him she whispered, "You don't have to go too slow."

"We have three days, Elsie, let's take our time."

She sat up, breasts bouncing nicely, "Charles Carson, if you take three days to make love to me, I just may kill you."

He snorted, "If I take three days to make love to you it likely will kill me. I'm not a young man you know."

This exchange had given enough time for him to calm down a little so he grasped her waist and pulled her to him, mouth moving to her breasts. She gasped with pleasure and felt his smile against her breast. He kissed and suckled each breast in turn, with his hand making slowly widening circles on her abdomen. She moaned as his hand brushed across the triangle of hair at her center. His mouth and tongue left her breasts and trailed a path down her abdomen. When he had kissed just below her navel, she stiffened a little and whispered huskily, "Charles, not that, not tonight. I don't think I could stand it." Raising his head, he complied. He brought his lips back to hers and kissed her gently while his hand still cupped her. As his tongue slipped inside her mouth to play with hers, he slipped one finger between her wet folds. He was rewarded with a groan that came not from her mouth but her throat and a tightening around his finger. He stroked his finger and his tongue slowly in and out in time while her hips writhed against his hand. "I don't think I can…" she gasped. "Then don't" he whispered back. Her muscles tightened around his finger in waves while her hips stilled. He quickly removed his finger and slipped into her. The rhythmic movements of her warm, wet folds drew him on to his own release after just a few short thrusts.

All thought fled from his head as he collapsed with a sigh at her side. He rolled onto his back drawing her with him, arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She curled into his side, and he thought he actually heard her purr. He dosed off then, breath slowing, smiling in satisfaction.

Elsie found herself floating slowly back down to earth, listening to the soft snoring of her Charles. She tried to curl her leg over his, but she didn't have full strength back in them yet. "_How do married couples ever get anything done if they have this to distract them?_" She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life in this bed with this man. She almost laughed with the pure joy of it. The emotional release was as great as the physical. She had wondered if she would be disappointed after all the waiting and hoping. She couldn't have ever imagined anything as good as she felt now or how it had felt to have him inside her, filling her. She had to stop that train of thought, or she would be waking him hoping for an encore. He had been incredibly generous with her. She was aware that many men would have simply sought their own release without worrying about satisfying their partner. Pulling the blanket over them both, she decided to let him rest. So he'll be ready for next time she thought as she dosed off to sleep as well.


	8. Chapter 8

**Definite M-ness in this chapter. Actually nothing but M-ness, so skip if you want.**

She was awakened by a hand softly stroking up and down her spine and soft kisses on her forehead. She lifted her cheek from his chest to look at him and smile. His kisses moved from her forehead to her mouth as his arm drew her closer. She realized that he was ready for her again and her smile widened. Since she was on top now, she decided that it was her turn to explore his body with hands and tongue. Her tongue snaked out to lap at his nipple while she smoothed her hand across his chest. This time it was she who was rewarded with a moan. His hand lightly grasped the back of her head while she kissed her way across his chest to his other nipple. She spent some time there teasing it with her tongue and teeth. His hand tightened a little, not too hard, and not to pull her toward him, just with a spasm of pleasure. While her mouth worked at his nipples, her hand repeated his actions from earlier by making slowly widening circles on his abdomen until she reached the wiry hair just below his navel.

She lifted her head then so she could watch him as she brushed the back of her fingers over the velvety smooth hardness that was there. His eyes had been half-closed enjoying her ministrations. They opened widely at her touch as he twitched under her hand. She began to lightly stroke her fingers over him, exploring the feel of him as she caressed him. After only a few moments, he said in a strangled voice, "Elsie, please stop. If you don't I won't be able to…"

Her hands stilled on him, and in one quick movement she was lying under him with him kissing down her neck. She pushed herself toward him, and he pulled back wanting to calm himself a little. Elsie didn't want to wait. She was ready for him, and she needed him inside her now. Pushing her hips upward she said, "Charles, please, don't wait." She watched as a look of determination came into his eyes. He nudged her knees apart with his own and pushed himself inside until his hips met hers. There were no quick short thrusts now driving to a quick release. He moved slowly with long, deep thrusts that pushed her hips into the bed. She shifted her hips just a little to give him a better angle, and watched as he closed his eyes to concentrate. It was different this time she realized. The warmth was building slowly, spreading out in waves from her very center coming quicker and quicker. All her attention was concentrated on his movements. Then fireworks exploded behind her eyes, and she gasped feeling that she couldn't breathe. His thrusts became a little more hurried and erratic then as he approached his own release. He groaned from deep in his throat, and she smiled at the rapturous expression on his face.

He did not dose off but stayed awake, smiling happily as he stroked her body. He was not trying to arouse her now. He just wanted to touch every part of her, to learn her body so that he could dream of her. He couldn't believe how overwhelming his joy was. He was glad that even as out of practice as he was; he'd been able to give her pleasure as well. Not once but twice, he thought proudly. He had thought she purred the first time, but he was sure he heard it now.

"Why ever are you looking so pleased with yourself, Charles Carson?" she teased.

"Because, I have had the rare pleasure of making a Scottish cat purr, not once but twice," he replied with a wolfish grin.

"I don't think you exactly did it alone, dear, and I do not purr!"

"Well, of course I didn't do it alone! What would be the fun in that?"

She dissolved into laughter. Not giggles, not from his Elsie, full-bodied, hearty laughter, and he loved her all the more for it.

Then his stomach growled. "I wonder if those sandwiches ever made their way up."

"I don't think we would have heard the knock," she said ruefully.

He got up slipping the trousers of his pyjamas on and his robe and crossed to the door. He opened it and saw a small cart with a covered tray sitting on top and two bottles of beer. He pulled the cart into the room and mentally blessed the innkeeper for his thoughtfulness.

After a supper of sandwiches and beer which was eaten with him sitting on that uncomfortable chair pulled up to the bed and her on her knees with the sheet wrapped around her breasts, he rolled the cart back into the hall. Walking back to the bed, he removed his robe and trousers and slipped back under the blankets to gather her in his arms. She fit nicely with her head on his shoulder and one leg draped over his. He gently stroked her shoulders without any amorous intent. Even he needed a little rest after all. "How do you feel?" he asked. "A little sore, a bit tired, but overall very happy," she replied smiling. "Good. I think it is a good day's work to have made you happy. Sleep now; we still have two days to enjoy each other." And after blowing out the lamp, they fell asleep in each other's arms.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning had the best beginning of any in his life. He awoke to find something warm snuggled into his groin and moving slightly. He opened his eyes to see that they'd both turned on their sides in their sleep and her bottom was pressed tightly against him while his arm was draped over her breasts. The movement he felt was the first stirrings of her awakening. One part of him was most decidedly awake and ready to begin the day. He kissed her shoulder lightly and cupped her breast in his hand in an effort to wake her. She did wake then and stretched slightly, yawning. She pressed more tightly against him and he groaned. Her eyes opened wide at his groan, and she started to turn toward him. He kept her on her side with light pressure on her shoulder. "No, I would like to lie like this for awhile if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," she replied. "Charles, do you find my bottom attractive?"

He laughed in surprise as he stroked her breasts, "Yes, very"

"Is that why you never want me ahead of you on the stairs?"

"Correction, I want you ahead of me on the stairs. It is not very good for my sanity for you to be ahead of me on the stairs. There is a difference," he replied as he began to kiss her neck and shoulder.

She wiggled her hips a little at his admission, and he groaned again.

"There was one time shortly after I began work at Downton that I thought you might have been attracted to me."

"I remember it well. As I started up the stairs, your beautiful round bottom was at just about eye level. I wasn't prepared for such a lovely sight. It took a great deal of effort on my part to not throw you over my shoulder and head for the nearest likely spot." He dipped his hand which had been stoking her breast a little lower and stroked a more intimate spot. He smiled when he heard her groan as well.

"And here I thought you'd just twisted your ankle or something."

"Well, I couldn't very well tell you the truth, could I?'

He lifted her leg to place it on his own as he slipped inside her. It felt wonderful. He moved inside her slowly while stroking her with his finger. Her release came quick and hard this time, much harder than last night. Her blood was pounding in her ears, the sound slowly receding as she heard the rapid breathing and sharp cry that let her know he'd found his release as well.

She turned to him with a smile and gathered him into her arms. "Would you let me walk ahead of you on the stairs sometimes now?"

"Only sometimes", he smiled in return.

Later, when they'd both caught their breath, Charles smiled and said, "Not too bad for an old man, if I do say so myself."

"I do wish you'd stop referring to yourself as old," she said a little exasperated, "You make it sound like you're ready for milquetoast and a shawl."

"Elsie, my next birthday I'll be 50," he replied a little grimly.

"So you only have another 20 or 30 years ahead of you," she replied dryly, "I intend to keep you healthy with plenty of exercise. You'll be in good shape until the end," then realizing that she didn't know a vital fact, she asked, "When is your birthday by the way?"

"August 4th; I'm glad to see you're so solicitous of my health. You don't have any selfish motives, do you?" he asked with a grin.

"Completely selfish. I want to grow old with you, and I intend to enjoy it. I won't mind the exercise much either," she continued smiling herself now.

"I want to grow old with you as well. I just wish I'd met you when I was 20 so that we could have 40 or 50 years instead of 20 or 30."

She snorted, "I doubt you'd have liked me when I was 12."

"12? So that would make you 42."

"Charles Carson!" she exclaimed with a light slap to his chest, "Don't you know there are some things that should never be said?"

"I assumed that since I was lying here nude, holding your bare bottom that I might take the liberty," he replied giving her bottom a squeeze.

"Assumptions are dangerous," she warned kissing his chest to soothe the slap.

"Ahh; and when is your birthday?" he asked as he realized that he didn't know that vital piece of information either.

"January 11th; you made a nice birthday present this year," she answered rubbing her legs against his.

Distracted now by the feel of her bottom in his hand and her legs against his, he said, "What would you like for next year?"

"I'm sure you'll find something, dear," she replied as she rolled on top of him.

Rising later, he looked at his watch on the bedside table. "Well, Mrs. Carson, I believe that we have missed breakfast, but would you like to go down and try to find some luncheon?"

"I suppose we should so we can keep our strength up. Let me wash up and we can go down," she said.

Mmmm, I need a shave as well."

She reached out to stroke his cheek, "I rather like you like this, but I don't suppose you could serve at table with a full set of whiskers."

He raised his eyebrows in mock astonishment, "Heavens no! What would happen if a whisker fell into the soup "

Laughing, she stood and winced, stumbling just a little. Charles grasped her arm to keep her from falling, "Are you all right?" he asked with concern.

"I'm just a tad bit sore. I have never done this before and four times in less than 24 hours might have been overdoing it a little," she said wryly.

"Are you implying that I've worn you out?" he asked with a mixture of amusement and pride.

"Nothing doing, I just need to get my second wind."

She pulled on her nightdress and robe and moved off, gingerly he saw, toward the washroom.

Pulling on his robe and gathering his shaving things, he followed her out with a smile.


	10. Chapter 10

Smiling fondly at her over the rim of his teacup, he noticed that she had finished her luncheon with relish.

"Hungry? Mrs. Carson."

"I've worked up a bit of an appetite," she admitted, "You needn't look so pleased with yourself, Mr. Carson. It doesn't look like you left much on your plate either."

"I need the energy to keep up with my wife. She's a young lass and somewhat demanding."

"Oh really? _My_ husband is mature enough to know how to please a woman with minimal effort."

"If you think that was minimal effort, my dear, I'm afraid you may be disappointed with me"

"I could never be disappointed with you, love."

"Good," he smiled, "Now, would you like to tour the city a bit, or . . ."

"Go back to our room," she said quickly and decisively, then blushed slightly.

Laughing, he said, "Maybe we should have a second piece of cake."

"Yes!" she laughed.

After their second piece of dessert, he sent her up to their room while he settled the bill and moved over to speak to the innkeeper.

"You'll be wanting another plate of sandwiches tonight, sir?"

"Umm, yes, please, and if we could a bit of tea and toast in the morning."

"Certainly, sir, would around 9 o'clock be all right?"

"Yes, that would be excellent."

"I did bring a pot of tea up this morning, but I don't think you heard my knock," the innkeeper said with a smile and wink.

"Oh! I-I-I'm sorry," Charles stammered out.

"Don't be," the innkeeper's smile broadened, "If you'll forgive me sir, you certainly seem to make your wife happy."

"Do I?"

"Yes, and she you," the innkeeper winked again.

Humming to himself, Charles returned to their room and opened the door. He stopped in the doorway to see that Elsie had solved the problem of where to sit quite nicely. Pulling the chair over to the bed, she had propped her feet up and was reading a book. Seeing that she had taken off her stockings and shoes, he admired her legs for a moment.

"You brought a book on our honeymoon?" he asked. "Well, that's shown me off, I suppose."

"Not for the honeymoon," she corrected, "for the train. Or did you expect me to spend the whole way here daydreaming of you?" she finished with a smirk.

He crossed the room, kneeling by her chair and wrapping his arms around her waist. "I did. Daydreamed of you, I mean."

"Honestly, Charles, you take my breath away sometimes with the things you say. Do you practice saying incredibly romantic things?"

"No, I'm just being honest."

She sighed, playing with his hair, "Well, maybe it's just 'the voice'."

"Beg pardon?"

"Your voice has remarkable powers, Charles. It can send chills down my spine. Especially when you try to whisper."

"What do you mean try? I can whisper."

"Yes, if whispering sounds like rumbling thunder," she laughed.

He stiffened a little.

"Charles, please don't be offended," she pleaded, "your voice just isn't designed to be quiet. It is designed to seduce Scottish housekeepers."

He softened a bit and smiled, "Should I take to reciting poetry, then? Robert Burns, perhaps?"

"Charles, you can recite the wine list with that voice and have me melting."

With her comment he stood and lifted her from the very uncomfortable chair to move her to the comfortable and spacious bed. He lay beside her, both fully clothed and him still wearing shoes. They lay like that for several minutes, kissing with their arms around each other and caressing each others' backs. A look of annoyance came over his face, and he rolled out of the bed. "I'm sorry, love, I know this is not very romantic, but this is the only suit I brought, so I need to hang it."

Elsie laughed softly, "There is no need to apologize. You've been in service over 25 years. You could probably rob a bank sooner than throw clothes on the floor, and I have to admit it would be pretty distracting for me as well."

"Possibly," he agreed chuckling.

"Actually," she said as she rose from the bed, "this is the only dress I've brought as well. I should probably hang it."

Walking to the wardrobe, she looked down to unbutton her dress. Clearing his throat, Charles said, "I could help you with that if you'd like." Looking up, she saw him standing in his shirtsleeves with his waistcoat unbuttoned staring at the neckline of her dress with a hungry look. Smiling, she put her hands on his upper chest and nodded an invitation. He took the next button in his hands and bent to kiss her neck just above. She gasped at the feel of his lips on the hollow of her throat. He slowly unbuttoned her dress trailing kisses on her skin as he revealed it. When he had her dress unbuttoned to the waist, he moved to push it off her shoulders, but she stopped him.

"My turn," she said with a grin as she reached to remove his tie. Unraveling his tie and removing his collar, she passed them to him. Wordlessly, he placed them in the wardrobe. The waistcoat was next and was hung beside his jacket. Then he placed his hands on her hips and kissed her hair while she worked at the buttons on his shirt. She did fine at first, but then he nuzzled the skin behind her left ear and her fingers were suddenly clumsy. She closed her eyes clutching at his shirt as she forgot what she was doing. He pulled back to whisper (rumble) in her ear, "Have you forgotten my shirt?" Shaking her head to clear the fog, she began on his buttons with a renewed eagerness. Soon his shirt and her dress were off and hung together in the wardrobe. His trousers were next. After he'd hung them carefully, he turned her around gently so he could remove her corset. Having trouble with the fastenings, he grumbled quietly, "Do you really take this off every night? How do you get any sleep?" Reaching behind her to guide his hands, she replied, "It gets easier with practice."

With the corset finally off, he turned her around to kiss her. Standing there in her undergarments, she asked, "Did you say this was not romantic?"

"It isn't when I do it by myself," he said defensively, "I suppose company makes everything better."

He bent to kiss her thoroughly on the mouth, and then cupping her bottom in both hands, he leaned back and straightened, lifting her to his height. She laughed a little into his mouth, and he raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. "I'm sorry. Just a little giddy, I suppose. Must be the air up here."

He laughed too and carried her to the bed where he tossed her unceremoniously. When she squealed in surprise, he said, "That, dear woman, is for making fun of my height." Then, to make up for any insult, he began a slow and very thorough exploration of her body with his lips and tongue. He very diplomatically spent equal time at both breasts suckling and nipping the nipples lightly with his teeth. He then trailed kisses in a zig zag down her abdomen, stopping to spend a bit of extra time at her navel. He moved lower going slower as he approached the top of her underwear. She stiffened a little, but didn't object, so he moved past to place a kiss at the very top of her thigh. He hooked his fingers under the edges of her underwear and slid them gently down her legs and off. He looked at her for a long moment and then placed his hands on her upper thighs. Slowly, so slowly he leaned down to place a kiss on her very center. She did stiffen then and raised her hips off the bed. He soothed her back down gently with his hands and began teasing her with his tongue. Using his lips and tongue, he began a very slow, very sweet torture of his beloved. He felt her hands clutching at the sheets and heard her moans as she tried to hold her hips very, very still. He continued this until he sensed she was about to lose control and then he pulled back only to cover her body with his own so that he could plunge deep inside.

She was already at the very edge of release, and his thrusts quickly pushed her over. Instead of floating back to earth as she had before, she felt the slow climb within her again. Higher this time, faster and more frantic she could feel the edge of release approaching fast. She went over the edge again as she felt him tighten against her and cry out with his own release.

He collapsed beside her. She could only lie there. She definitely had no control over any part of her body this time. Looking over at her he saw a single tear streaming from her eye. Alarmed, he asked, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you? Elsie?" She managed to turn her head to look at him and smile. She gasped, "Nothing, Nothing's wrong, It was-, I can't-, Oh Charles!" He smiled at her expression and pulled her close. Wonder of wonders, he'd made Elsie Hughes speechless!


	11. Chapter 11

They slept then, the deep sleep of the truly satisfied and exhausted. He awoke a long while later to a very dark room. They'd fallen asleep in the mid-afternoon, and it was now night. Just enough moonlight was streaming into the room for him to be able to read his watch on the bedside table. 2AM. He'd slept for almost ten hours. Slowly, in an attempt not to wake Elsie, he pulled his arm and leg from beneath her. She clung to them in her sleep which he found endearing. Fumbling into his robe, he moved over to the door to check for the sandwiches. All this activity had made him ravenous. Sure enough, there they were with the two bottles of beer as before. He pulled the cart into the room as he mentally decided to give the innkeeper a slightly larger tip.

He had decided to sit on the uncomfortable chair and eat by moonlight, when he heard Elsie stirring in the bed. "Are those the sandwiches?" she asked sleepily. In answer, he lit the hand lamp, keeping the light low and carried the tray over to the bed. She sat up, not bothering to keep the sheets around her this time; they slipped down to her waist leaving her breasts bare. He smiled, supposing modesty went out the window after what they'd done together. "Hungry?" he asked. Her reply was a low hum. He set the tray in the center of the bed and sat down at the opposite corner to share their late supper. They ate together in silence and finished off all the sandwiches and beer. He wasn't the only one who had worked up an appetite he noticed. When they'd finished he replaced the now empty tray and bottles on the cart and pushed it back into the hall. Returning to the bed, he removed his robe and lay down beside Elsie who had already snuggled back under the covers.

"Tired?" he asked, kissing her shoulder. "Yes," she sighed, "but not sleepy."

"Mmm, I feel the same," he replied.

"Charles, could we just talk for awhile?" she asked.

"Is there anything in particular that you want to talk about?"

"No, just talk or not, I suppose. We could just lie here and enjoy each other's company"

"I do, you know."

"Enjoy my company?" she asked.

"Yes and your breasts of course. Very nice breasts you have there, firm and with just the right amount of bounce."

"Charles!"

After a few moments, he said seriously, "I meant it, you know."

"That I have nice breasts?"

"That too, but I was referring to the whole 'as long as we both shall live' thing"

"Oh, yes, I meant it too."

"Elsie, I mean that as far as I'm concerned we're married now. I will never leave you. You are my wife in every way that really matters. If you want, we can go and make it legal now."

"At 3 am?"

"Don't joke, you know what I mean," he said a little exasperated, "Elsie, what I'm trying to tell you is that you're the most important person in my life. I would leave Downton, if you wished. I'm not completely sure how I would support you, but I'd figure something out. My heart and my life are yours."

"Charles, I feel the same way. You have been the most important person in my life for quite a while now. I would never ask you to leave Downton, though. It's too much a part of who you are. You've lived there for over 20 years. It would be like asking you to leave your family. You have held my heart for years, now you have the rest of me."

What could any man do at the end of a speech like that but thank his lucky stars? He did and kissed the woman who held his heart.

"Since we've decided that we're truly married now, could I ask a personal question?" she asked hesitantly.

"What?" he asked, a little nervous himself at anything that would make Elsie Hughes hesitate.

"This inn, the meals, the sandwiches, I'm sure they're all rather expensive," she began.

"And you're wondering how I can afford all this on a butler's salary," he finished for her.

"Well, yes."

"Elsie, did it ever occur to you that I've been in service since I was 20. I've had my room and board provided all that time. While my salary is not large, I have never had to spend very much of it. After the foolishness of my youth, I never spent my money on frivolous things. Starving can make one very frugal. I have never been fond of drink, and I've not had any lady friends. The two biggest consumers of cash I believe. Plus, both my parents are deceased. I have inherited a small amount from them. And I've had some good gains at the racetrack. Altogether, I have a tidy sum squirreled away. I suppose I even have enough that I could leave service and find a small business to run: a pub, a tobacco shop, or even a tea shop. I just have no desire to do so. This time with you has been the happiest of my life. Any amount I've spent has been more than worth it."

This openness about his finances made her believe him her husband more than anything else. She couldn't help asking, "You're a gambler?" Somehow, it just didn't fit her mental picture of him.

"I do not gamble," he stated flatly. "I make carefully considered investments. I attend the races regularly, but I rarely place a bet. I only place bets when I am almost sure of success, and I never bet more than I can afford to lose. I win 8 out of 10 times. A few of those times have fortunately had rather long odds. You forget that I am the son of a groom. I know how to judge horses," he finished with a smile.

"I know how to judge men, Charles Carson, and I say that you are a very good man."

"Is it my turn now to ask an incredibly personal question?" he asked after a long pause.

He felt her smile and nod against his chest.

"You've said before that you've loved me for almost five years. Does that mean you found me somewhat attractive from the start?"

She looked up at him so he could see the roll of her eyes, "The ego, Charles!"

"It is rather sensitive," he agreed, "Humor me?"

"It was not love at first sight if that's what you're asking. You were just the stern butler at first. No, I can remember the precise moment I fell in love with you."

"Go on."

"Do you remember James the octopus?"

"An apt description. He's running a pub in Ripon now with his wife, one child and another on the way."

"For his wife's sake, I hope he can keep his hands away from the serving girls better than he could the housemaids. Anyway, he was coming on to me rather strongly, and I had finally decided to put him down a peg or two. Then, you came in to rescue me."

He smiled a bit at that, "Actually, it was to rescue James that I came in to the room. Well, your temper is impressive at full sail, my dear," he added hurriedly at her look of surprised indignation.

"Hmmph!" she sniffed and continued, "You apologized for his behavior which I found most endearing. I looked up into your eyes to speak to you, and you smiled at me. I believe I've been in love with you ever since. You do have a lovely smile, Charles."

"Would it surprise you to learn that I remember that incident well, because it is also when I fell in love with you?"

"Took you long enough to do anything about it," she grumbled.

"Well, there are rules, love."

"Yes, I understood after I learned about 'the rule' and the previous butler's behavior."

He stiffened a bit, "What do you know of Mr. Carter's behavior? Who's been carrying tales?"

"Mrs. Dunmore. She and Mrs. Patmore were lamenting your lack of a love life one night. When I questioned them about why you didn't just choose some woman on staff, like me, they explained about the 'rule'. They also explained that Mr. Carter was 'a leech' in Mrs. Dunmore's opinion and that you hated it and were as a consequence a much better butler."

"Nice to know they were worried about me," he said drily, "That's all true as far as it goes."

"Do you want to tell me the rest of the story?"

His shoulders shifted a little uncomfortably.

"Don't if you'd rather not. I don't need to know."

"No, I think you do need to know. It will make you see a little more of how I feel about Downton and our current employer."

"Then, I'll listen."

"Mr. Carter was indeed a leech, and his behavior bled down to the rest of the male staff. I would try to put myself in his way at times, but there is a limit to what a footman can do to a butler. The old Earl probably wouldn't have listened to me, but I should have spoken to Lord Robert. I had served as his valet many times. He probably would have done something. In the end, I was more afraid of losing my job than doing the right thing," he finished with disgust.

"There was a kitchen maid who was very foolish. I know Mr. Carter shouldn't have abused his position, but she certainly didn't make it hard for him. He apparently got her 'in the family way', and they disappeared together suddenly one night. It was left for me to make explanations to His Lordship. That was an uncomfortable discussion to say the least."

"I'll bet!"

"His Lordship made me the butler after that with the understanding that something like that was never to happen again. He let me know that while he was not foolish enough to expect celibacy from his staff, he did expect discretion. He was most disturbed by Mr. Carter's apparent abuse of position."

"Charles, what Mr. Carter did was despicable, but at least he did marry the girl."

He grimaced, "Elsie, how happy could a forced marriage be? Also, judging from his previous behavior, I doubt that he is the most faithful of husbands. Bessie was a foolish girl, but any woman deserves faithfulness if nothing else."

"Charles, very few women actually get that," Elsie replied with a little bit of sadness.

"You know this from experience?"

She nodded, "When I first went into service, I suppose I was the foolish girl. My only excuse is that I was just 17; everyone's foolish at that age. He was just a footman, though. I believed him when he said I was the only one until I found that I was only one of three or more."

"Elsie, I realize that these are just words, but you know that would never happen with me," he said drawing her closer.

"Charles, I've known you for five years. I should think I know by now that you are a very different sort of man. Although I've seen a much different side of you these past few days," she said with a smile.

"Well, I don't think the butler could exactly show this side to everyone, could he?"

"He'd better not!" she laughed.

Laughing, he replied, "Elsie, you're the only person I've ever been able to be this way with. I don't just mean this," he indicated their current state of undress, "I mean this relaxed. I have to be reserved, dignified, and stern with everyone else, comes with the job. It's wonderful to not have to restrain myself with you."

"I'm glad to be of some service to you," she said with a wry smile, "but speaking of being unrestrained. Are you still very tired?" she asked as she began to caress his chest.

"No; I'm feeling rested now, did you have something in mind?" he asked sliding down to lay facing her with his hand on her hip.

Leaning forward to kiss him, she said, "I was thinking you might show me how unrestrained you can be."

"I think I might be able to do that," he said as he caressed her bottom, drawing her closer.

"Good," she smiled as she leaned forward to kiss him.

Rolling her under him, they both let all restraint slip away and enjoyed each other's company very much, indeed.


	12. Chapter 12

He had thought the previous morning's awakening had been the best of his life, and it was up to that point. The sensations that greeted him on waking this morning had that beat by a long shot. He awoke to a warm, wet sensation on his chest and a small hand stroking him slowly and firmly. "Elsie?" he asked.

"Good, you're awake," she replied, continuing to apply kisses to his chest and stroke him.

"What are you doing?"

"I should think that was obvious," she smirked.

"Well, yes, but why are you?"

"Because I wanted to. When I woke, I was ready to make love, but you weren't awake yet. I waited, but well, it was there, and I just couldn't resist. I suppose I also hoped that it might wake you."

"Definitely. Are you going to make love to me then?" he asked a little huskily.

"I'm not really sure that I know how."

He lifted an eyebrow at her and she continued, "I mean I'm not really sure about the logistics of it from this angle."

"With you on top you mean."

She nodded and he asked, "Would you allow me to help you a little?" At her second nod, he sat up and scooted back in bed, putting the pillows behind him so that he could lean against the headboard. He then took her hips in his hands and moved her until she was straddling his lower abdomen. "Now, you're in charge. I won't do anything without your permission. Make love to me, wife," he said in a lower voice.

She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his chest and her lips against his neck. His arms twitched to caress her breasts, but she hadn't given permission. This voluntary restraint on his part was very arousing. She kissed his neck working her way up to his jaw and lips. She kissed his lips, invading his mouth with her tongue. He did not push his tongue into her mouth as he desired. He simply enjoyed the sensation of her tongue exploring his mouth and teeth. As she realized that he was truly going to let her have her way with him she became a little more exuberant in her kisses and touches.

After she had finished a very thorough exploration of his mouth, she moved her lips to his other jaw and the other side of his neck. Kissing her way down his neck, she paused over his pulse which was beating rather rapidly she noticed with satisfaction. She felt a shiver run through him when she reached the angle between shoulder and neck. She spent a few delightful moments there and made a mental picture so that she could find the spot again. Then scooting her hips a little lower, she devoted her attention to his chest. This maneuver had almost pushed her onto him. He knew he could enter her easily then, but he continued to restrain himself with difficulty. Instead, he concentrated on what she was doing to his chest. He felt a tingling sensation behind his nipples and whispered his pleasure in what she was doing. She sighed, and he couldn't help himself, "What?" he asked. "Your voice feels better than it sounds," she replied with delight. He laughed, and she raised her hips and pushed herself onto him. She began to rise and fall slowly then, eyes closed. While he wanted to close his eyes against the sensations that were flooding him, he couldn't take his eyes off the look of intense concentration on her face. She was concentrating on one point, the connection between them. Her whole world was focused down to that one point and the waves of sensation emanating from it. Slowly at first and then faster she felt her release approaching. As it approached, her movements became quicker and shorter, more erratic. When her release came she tightened around him, drawing him closer, but not quite, to his own release. Her hips stilled and not being able to stop himself, he grasped her hips and thrust up into her with rapid hard movements to find his own release.

Spent, she collapsed onto his chest. Panting a little he said, "You are much better than an alarm clock." She laughed and lay in his arms, waiting to catch her breath. There was a knock at the door then, and she started in surprise. Looking at his watch on the table, he said, "Tea and toast, just in time." He pulled on his pyjama trousers and robe and quickly crossed to the door. Looking back to ensure that she was covered, he opened the door to find a serving girl there with a cart. He thanked her, handed her a tip and pulled the cart into the room.

He busied himself with making the tea while she watched. "Am I performing to your satisfaction, madam?" he asked with a smile. "Oh yes," she breathed and he knew that she was speaking of more than his tea making skills. "If you'll straighten the bed a little, I'll bring the tray over there." She did as he asked, and he walked to the bed with tea tray in hand. She hid a smile behind her hand as she imagined him serving tea at Downton with only pyjama trousers on and a robe that had worked its way open to show his bare chest. "What is it?" he asked, "Elsie, that was a particularly devilish smile."

"I was just imagining you serving tea at Downton like this," she replied unable to keep her amusement from her voice.

He tried to look stern, but couldn't help grinning a little. "I suppose most would be shocked to find that I even have bare skin. They probably think I was born wearing waistcoat and tie."

The next few minutes were filled with eating toast and sipping tea. Really, she couldn't remember ever being this hungry. Her thoughts turned to the day ahead, and she became a little sad at the thought of it being their last. She knew they couldn't stay like this exactly. They would have to come out eventually to earn a living. She found herself wondering how long they could stay here like this if they both used all their savings completely and sold all their belongings. Her thoughts were interrupted by his touch on her arm and eyebrows raised in question.

She smiled a little sadly, "I was just wondering if we could stay like this forever by selling off all our possessions."

He smiled at the thought and, putting the tray back on the cart, rolled the cart into the hall. Coming back to the bed, he sat with his back against the headboard and pulled her against his chest. Kissing her hair softly, he asked, "Are you dreading the return so much? My offer is still open. I'm not sure how I would support you, but I'm willing to try."

"I do dread returning, but I'm certain you'd be miserable away from Downton. You said yourself that you feel responsible for the staff. What if the next butler was more of a Mr. Carter than a Mr. Carson?"

"Do you think we can make it work?" he asked a little sadly.

"Yes, I think we can. We just have to exercise discretion. What we do must be done behind closed doors and quietly. I will miss being able to touch your cheek or smooth your hair whenever I wish, but I've never been one for public demonstrations. I am a rather shy woman, if you hadn't noticed."

He snorted, "I hadn't."

She turned to roll her eyes at him. "I am!" she insisted. Her protest was rendered a little ineffective by the sheet falling a bit lower to expose both breasts fully.

He began to laugh in earnest then and she looked down to see where his eyes were drawn. She blushed a little, "Well, I suppose I've not really shown that side these past two days," she admitted.

"No, just every other side."

The look of shocked surprise on her face was well worth the light slap on his chest that remark earned him.

Grasping her waist, he pulled her to him to soothe her ruffled feathers with kisses and light touches. She softened slowly and began to respond eagerly. It didn't take long for her to grasp the waist band of his pyjamas. Lifting his hips, he allowed her to pull them off and drop them on the floor. He laid her back on the bed, kissing her neck and lightly stroking her breasts. This time, their lovemaking was sweetened by their knowledge of each other's bodies. He knew that if he kissed her just there, she would gasp in delight. She knew that if she brushed him at just that spot, he would shiver in pleasure. With such mutual knowledge, was it any wonder that, looking into each other's eyes, they both enjoyed a release more intense and pleasurable than any of the others?


	13. Chapter 13

She awoke to find the bed cold and empty beside her. She sat up at the click of the lock, and he turned back to the bed, cleanly shaven and hair damp. "I didn't want to wake you. I thought I'd go down and bring something up for luncheon."

She smiled at his thoughtfulness, "Since I'm awake, I could just go down with you, and we could enjoy it there. If you don't mind waiting for me to get ready that is."

"I don't mind," he said as he settled himself in the chair to wait.

She came back from the washroom a short while later to find him sitting with feet propped on the bed and her book in his hand. She crossed to the wardrobe and began to dress. She had her undergarments and corset on and had just pulled her dress over her head when she glanced over to see him staring at her with a well-known light in his eyes.

"Charles?"

"I was just thinking that it's a rare woman who can be just as arousing getting dressed as getting undressed," he said with a smile.

She crossed to him as he stood. He pulled her to him for a kiss, and she felt the evidence of that arousal. "We could…"she began, but was interrupted by her growling stomach.

"Your stomach says we can't," he replied with a laugh, "Give me a few moments and we can go down."

She turned back to the wardrobe to finish dressing. Bending over to straighten her stocking, she heard a groan. "That's not helping matters," he said in a strangled voice. She shot him a wicked smile over her shoulder. "And you know it," he accused testily.

She stood then and straightened her dress. Turning to see if he was ready, she found him standing gripping the back of the chair with his eyes closed.

"Charles, are you all right?"

"Shhh! I'm setting the table for a five course meal."

"Come again?"

He opened his eyes then, looking at her pointedly, "It's what I do when I find you ahead of me on the stairs," he said to give her his meaning and shut his eyes again.

"Oh! Is Lady Violet coming to dinner?" she asked to be helpful.

His eyes shot open, "That did it!" Taking her elbow, he walked quickly to the door.

Looking at him over the remains of their luncheon, she thought how nice it was to simply be able to enjoy a meal together without the noise and sniping of the rest of the staff. She would miss this as much as the privacy of their room and the large double bed. As she thought of that bed and what they had done, what she would like to be doing now, in it, her cheeks suddenly heated. "Are you almost finished?" She supposed something in her tone alerted him because he looked up sharply at her question. Taking in her dilated pupils and the slight flush that started at her neckline, he set his cup down quickly. "Yes, yes I am," he replied, "would you like to…"

"Go to our room," she finished for him.

He fumbled out enough cash to cover the bill, along with a generous tip, and helped her to rise.

He just had time to lock the door when he turned and found himself with an armful of Scottish vixen. She was kissing him vigorously with passion as she tugged at his tie. He responded with eagerness and started on the buttons of her dress. "There's no time for that. Charles, please," she pleaded. She unfastened his trousers, and they fell to the floor. He responded by lifting the hem of her dress, and her, pushing her against the wall. With a strength he didn't know his almost 50 year old legs had, he made love to her with her arms wrapped around his neck, legs around his waist, and back pushing against the wall. Her cries let him know that she found her release just before his came. Suddenly feeling very weak, he let her down and leaned against her and the wall.

"Charles, are you all right?" she asked, alarmed, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have insisted, but I just needed you so much."

"No, Elsie, it was wonderful. I just need to catch my breath," he panted trying to do just that, "If you don't mind me asking, what prompted that? Was luncheon that good?" he asked.

"No," she snorted, "I was just thinking how much I was going to miss this room and this bed. That led naturally to thoughts of what we've done in that bed and suddenly I wanted you very much."

"Too much in fact for us to make it to that bed," he said with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, I suppose so," she replied wryly, "Come let me help you get undressed and into that bed."

"I'm perfectly capable of undressing myself, thank you," he said, drawing himself upright.

"But it's so much more fun if you let me help."

"Only if you'll let me help you," he replied with a wolfish grin.

Several moments later they were laying in _that _bed with her back against his chest and his legs and arms wrapped around her. "I love to hold you like this," he murmured. She purred in reply. He slept then promising himself to do just a little more to her in that bed before they had to catch their trains tomorrow.

She woke first with the sensation of his breath on her nipples. She was equally amused and chagrined that he could be so arousing even in his sleep. When had she become such a wanton woman? Looking back she supposed it was when he'd given her that most intimate of kisses. No, before that, perhaps when he'd entered her for the first time. No, it had happened before she promised to meet him here. She supposed if she was completely honest it was over five years ago when she realized that their attraction might be mutual, but she still didn't seek a position elsewhere. She had set her cap for the man, and she had him now. She unconsciously tightened her hold on him.

He awoke with his face pressed firmly against Elsie's bosom. Not knowing quite what else to do, he did the first thing which came to mind which just happened to be kissing the right side of her nipple. That startled her, and she loosened her hold on him. Instead of moving away from her, he merely shifted a little so that he could kiss her breasts properly. He was going to miss having ready access to these and wanted to enjoy them to the fullest. She sensed this as he touched and kissed only her breasts. She enjoyed the sensations tingling through her breasts and arousing her. When he had enjoyed her breasts completely, he lifted to look into her face. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open slightly, and a flush spreading down her neck. He paused for a moment wanting to retain this mental picture. When she opened her eyes to look at him questioningly, he lifted himself on his arms and nudged her legs apart with his knee. She looked at him then, watching his eyes as he entered her. She closed them again when he was sheathed completely within her. "Charles, my Charles," she breathed as her legs wrapped around his lower back and her arms around his neck.

He began to move then, slowly, trying to make this last, as late afternoon sunlight poured in through the window. He pushed against her until their hips were touching, and then pulled back until he was almost out. They only had a short time left to spend here, and he was desperate that it be perfect. She was brushing her fingers over his chest and lower. His thrusts were pushing her toward a sweet release. She came to the edge of her release then held herself back wanting to wait for him. She saw in his face that he was near before she felt his thrusting become more erratic. She let herself go then and was not sure if the cry of release came from herself or her lover, perhaps both.

He collapsed on top of her, and she welcomed his weight. Then, he rolled a little to the side pulling her with him, not wanting to crush her. She lay with cheek on his shoulder and her breath brushing his neck, humming in pleasure. (NOT purring no matter what the dreadful man said) "You seem quite satisfied, love, if you don't mind me saying," he said as he tried to catch his breath.

"I am quite satisfied, and I don't mind you saying. I don't think I'll ever mind anything you do for the rest of our lives," she replied with a sigh.

"Now that's a bit unrealistic."

"Yes, but we're on our honeymoon, and I thought I'd be optimistic."

"Elsie, you are a Scots woman and have the temper to match. If you hadn't noticed, I am a just a little stubborn."

"A little," she scoffed.

"A little," he replied firmly, "I am sure we will have a disagreement at some time or other,"

"Charles, if we ever have a disagreement as you put it, all you'll have to do is what you've just done to me, and I'll likely forget what the bother was about. Although, I should say that Scots women don't disagree; they fight."

"My point exactly," he pointed out with amusement, "So, if we're _disagreeing_ over which china to use at say, the garden party, then I should just throw you over my shoulder and carry you to my room to ravish you."

"No, you silly man," she said lightly punching his arm, "The sofa in my parlor will do nicely, thank you."

His laughter effectively ended the discussion.

They lay there quietly, watching the sunlight fade and the room gradually darken. Neither wanted to sleep but simply enjoying each other and being able to lie together for so long which would be impossible once they'd returned to Downton. His stomach growled, and he mentally cursed himself for not asking for a plate of sandwiches tonight. "Hungry?" she asked with a smile.

"I forgot to ask for the sandwiches tonight," he replied, "I was in a bit of a hurry to get back to the room."

"Oh, yes," she said with an impish grin, "you do have a demanding wife."

"That was one demand with which I was happy to comply," he responded, hugging her closer to his chest.

There was a knock at the door.

"If that is sandwiches, I'm definitely leaving a larger tip," he said as he pulled on his trousers and robe and crossed to the door.

It was, along with a bottle of wine this time. He returned to her with a smile and tray. "Mmmm, a much larger tip," he said around a mouthful of sandwich.

After pushing the cart into the hall once again, he returned to lie with his wife. Their hands began to explore softly. She trailed her hand over his chest and down his abdomen to the wiry hair below his navel, then up his side to his back. He drew circles around both nipples then lightly trailed his finger down her abdomen to the triangle of hair at her center, and then running his hand around her waist he cupped her buttocks lightly in his hand. The touches were light and almost reverent as they concentrated on memorizing each other's body. He leaned forward to kiss her lightly, then deeper as he pushed her back on the bed. He lay beside her then and pulled her to him. They continued their light, reverent touches, following almost the same path repeatedly. At first, there was no arousal in the touch, and then it seemed to her that his finger trailed fire, heating everything in its path. She leaned forward kissing him deeply as his hand traced her buttocks. His hand trailed down her leg grasping her knee lightly and lifting it over his hip. She felt him there poised just on the point of joining. His grip tightened on her hip then and drew her onto him. She began to move in a rhythm that she had not known three days before but had learned so well since then. She ran her hand over his back with heated strokes as he continued to caress her back and bottom. She was amazed at how strong her release was and enjoyed the look of pure abandonment on his face.

"Charles," she whispered later not wanting to awaken him if he was asleep.

"Hmmm?" he answered a little groggily.

"Do you think we'll be able to sleep together once we've returned to Downton?" she asked.

"I think we'll be able to arrange it from time to time," he answered a little less groggily.

"I don't mean making love, I mean really sleeping together."

"That's what I mean too," he insisted, "Elsie, sleeping next to you is the most relaxing rest I've had in years. I think with some effort we can find a way to sneak into one another's rooms."

"It's the sneaking I don't like."

"Neither do I," he replied grimly, "but our other choice is to leave, and I thought we decided not to do that. I've thought of some of the things Lord Grantham has said over the years. I honestly don't think he minds relationships among the staff as long as he can pretend he doesn't know of them. As long as we're never actually caught in the act, no one will actually _know_ will they? We can stay alone together late in your parlor. We can walk to the village together. We can go to each other's rooms quietly at night. We could even go on a vacation at the same time, _as long as no one __**knows**__ we're together_. Even if someone saw me leaving your room in the wee hours, how do they know what we were doing? We could have been discussing household business."

She snorted softly, "Household business? So you were suddenly seized with the overwhelming need at 3am to tell me you wanted to use three sugar sifters at table instead of two. You can say what you like, there will be gossip."

"There will always be gossip, even if absolutely nothing is happening. We might as well enjoy ourselves," he grinned, "No; I'm convinced that as long as we don't confirm anything or flaunt our relationship, we'll be fine. After a while it might even become so commonplace that people forget to gossip. Most of the younger staff probably don't think 50 year olds have sex anyway."

"Wait until they turn 50 or 42 for that matter," she laughed, "All right, you've convinced me. We'll hide out in the open, but please don't get caught leaving my room at 3am; no one will believe you've come to discuss sugar sifters."

"No, of course not, we would be discussing candlesticks."

Serious again, he asked, "What time is your train tomorrow?"

"12:10"

He grunted, "We'll have our first chance to see if 'hiding in the open' is going to work, it seems we'll be on the same train. I hadn't intended that."

"Too late to do anything about it now," she agreed, "At least the train comes in to Ripon, there's little chance that anyone from Downton will be there."

"If they are, what could they say? We simply happened to be on the same train together."

"I know, I know. You've made your point. Now sleep, dear man, so we can have a proper finale tomorrow morning."

"Thoughts like that are not exactly conducive to sleep," he admonished although he proceeded to do just that.

She awoke to feel a warm sensation on her breasts. She then felt a cooling sensation which caused her to look down. Charles was alternately licking and then blowing on her breasts. This action was very effective in arousing her fully from sleep. He looked up at her, "Good, you're awake." He began to move lower as she let her head drop back on the pillows. When she realized his intention, she raised her head off the pillows to offer a half-hearted protest. Before she could speak, he had reached his intended goal, and her head fell back on the pillows with a sigh of pleasure. As his tongue worked, he slipped his finger inside to begin stroking. She moaned, hips writhing in pleasure. She grasped the back of his head as he continued his sweet torture. After a few minutes, her hands fell from his head to grasp the sheets, her thighs began to quiver, and he heard a low groan from her throat. He continued with his licks and strokes until her hips collapsed to the bed, and she became very still. He lifted himself to smile into her eyes and place a kiss on her forehead and then her lips. Laying his head on her chest he petted her side. Her arms encircled his head loosely as she stroked his hair. "Charles? Don't you want to…?"

"Shhh, love, it's early yet, we have time for you to recover."

She laughed a little, "I don't know if I'll ever be able to recover completely from that."

"Good," he smiled against her breast, "that was my intention."

It didn't take long for her strokes of his hair to move down to his neck and shoulders, and the hand petting her side began to lengthen its caresses to touch the sides of her breast down to her bottom. He lifted his head to kiss her. He kissed her deeply, pushing his tongue into her mouth. She returned the kiss with vigor. His hands continued to caress her sides while hers gripped the back of his neck tightly drawing him closer. He shifted his hand around to her front to cup her and he slipped one finger inside her already wet folds. He began the slow strokes with his finger and tongue which were designed to arouse her. She whispered her delight into his mouth as he increased the rhythm of his ministrations. Then, removing his finger, he pushed himself into her to begin the long, slow thrusts which he knew would fulfill them both. As he felt both his and her release building, he whispered, "Elsie, open your eyes, please, I want to see your eyes." She did, and he lost himself in her brown eyes as sensations overcame him.

He buried his face in her neck, "Elsie, my Elsie, I do love you. I am yours body and heart."

She held him tight against her, kissing his cheek and ear. "My love, you know you have all of me."

Later having risen and dressed for the journey, he held her shoulders as she straightened his tie. "I have been dressing myself for quite a while now, you know," he said with a teasing smile.

She clicked her tongue at him, "And to think that your tie hasn't been straight all that time!"

As he sobered, he asked, "You'll miss this Elsie?"

"Of course I will you silly man! We can't very well lie in bed and make love for the rest of our lives though, can we?"

"No, but I bet that job would have a lot of takers," he replied with a thoughtful smile.

"Silly, silly man," she said with a smile and a hug which took any sting out of the words, "Charles, my mother always told me to take what I want but be willing to pay the price. You are what I want, and I'm willing to pay the price."

Drawing him down to her, she kissed him in a way designed to convince him she thought he was worthy of the cost.

The train ride to Ripon was surprisingly pleasant. Charles ensured that they had a compartment to themselves by looming in the doorway and glaring. A 6'2" giant with broad shoulders was quite handy to have along on trips, it seemed. She sat, held tightly against his chest, dosing with the rocking movement of the train. As they approached the station, he shook her slightly to wake her. "We're here, love." He bent to give her a very thorough kiss before moving to the opposite seat.


	14. Chapter 14

Once they arrived at Downton they each had their own duties to attend. Charles was busy making sure that the larger trunks were getting unpacked and things settled. There was also some of the silver he had taken to London for repair that he wanted to check. For Elsie, she had to ensure that the bedrooms had received their proper airing and would be ready for the family's return in two days time. She also had to review the menu for the garden party with Mrs. Patmore and once again argue about the bloody store closet. There were only a few hours left in the day, but they were filled with all these annoyances and more. When dinner was over she retired to her parlor to sit in her armchair with her feet propped on the ottoman. She heard the door open and shut but didn't look up. Charles sat down on the ottoman and took her feet in his hands. He began to rub her feet causing her to smile and hum contentedly. "The return to reality is a bit exhausting, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, "I find it hard to believe that I've only been gone four days. It seems there's so much work to do."

"I feel the same way," he agreed, "Are you sure there's not a job somewhere that would involve us lying in bed and making love all day?"

She laughed, "There may be, but I doubt it's legal."

"Elsie Hughes, you shock me! I wouldn't have thought you knew of such things."

They laughed together softly, and he coaxed her to the sofa so he could hold her properly. Sitting there with their arms around each other seemed to make the day a little more bearable.

He had intended to merely come say goodnight and then see her off to her own bed to sleep, but holding her in his arms, he felt that he couldn't let her go.

"Come to my room tonight," he whispered.

"Charles," she whispered hesitantly, "I'm very tired."

"I am too," he answered smiling, "I meant to sleep with me. The men's quarters are almost deserted. We really shouldn't pass up this chance."

She thought for a moment and agreed, "I'll come after I'm reasonably sure the girls are asleep. To sleep, mind."

"Yes, ma'am, I'm serious when I say I'm tired too. Don't expect anything of me tonight."

He was sitting on the chair in his room; towel draped over his legs and apron on, shining his shoes when she opened the door and entered quickly. He started to rise, but she motioned for him to sit back down. "You'll drop everything if you stand up; finish shining your shoes. Why don't you let the boot black do that?"

"This was my first job in service when I was 12. For one thing, it relaxes me. For another, I've never thought anyone does it as well as I do," he smiled.

She laughed softly, of course he wouldn't. She glanced around the room. The only other place to sit was the bed and somehow the thought of that made her suddenly shy. She was struck by the absurdity of being shy of anything with him after the past four days, but she was shy nonetheless. Walking to his dresser she looked at the items there. His comb, his shaving brush, and a small pair of scissors were laid out in a neat row to one side of the basin. "The scissors are to tame these great bushy eyebrows," he said with a smile in his voice letting her know he was watching her.

She turned her head to smile at him over her shoulder, and then looked at the items on the other side, a well-worn pipe, a watch, a small bag and a picture of a pleasant looking woman in a housekeeper's dress. "I didn't know you smoked," she said.

"I don't. That pipe was my father's. Silly of me to keep it I suppose, but Mum always filled his pipe, and he would smoke it after supper. I can still smell his tobacco in it."

"And this is your mother, of course."

He nodded, finished now, placing his shoes on the floor so that he could cross to her, "I found it in Mr. Jerkyns room after he died, along with some letters."

"Love letters?"

"No, not really, they were mostly little notes to do with household matters, but they were signed Grace and not Mrs. Carson," he said with a sad smile.

"She loved him then," and she asked, "Do you think he loved her as well?"

"He must have," Charles said thoughtfully, "to have kept her picture and those notes. He nearly beat me up the stairs to her room when she didn't come down for breakfast that day."

"The watch was your father's too?'

"No; Mr. Jerkyns'. 'Prompt and tidy, Mr. Carson, prompt and tidy' he was a great stickler for timeliness. He didn't have any relatives. No one came to the funeral but staff," Charles finished.

"Did it bother you that he and your mother loved each other?" She asked.

"No; I don't know if I even really realized it at the time, although he was usually to be found in her parlor, and he was very solicitous of her. My Mum and Da loved each other, I know, but Da was rather foolish with his money. He was a groom who trained thoroughbreds, and he was good. He made a lot of money in tips and bonuses when the horses he trained won. He gambled, though. Never on horses, he didn't think that would be sporting, but dice and cards. If he'd been more careful, Mum wouldn't have had to work. Mr. Jerkyns was a different sort of man. He took care of my Mum, did everything possible to make her life easier."

"Sounds like another man I know," she said smiling and then looking at the bag, she realized what it was, "Peppermints! I didn't know you had a sweet tooth."

"I don't, or I didn't used to. I keep them in my pocket for the girls. Lady Mary always fancied them and, of course, Lady Edith and Lady Sybil found out as well. Now I use them to time things."

When she looked at him quizzically, he explained, "If someone his Lordship likes calls, then I have two peppermints before I interrupt. If it's someone he doesn't like, I have one. When Lady Violet comes to tea with her Ladyship, I crunch it."

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist, "So that's why you always smell like peppermint."

He hugged her to him keeping his hands from touching her, "If you want to get into bed, I'll just wash my hands and join you."

"No, I'll wait," she said, suddenly shy again.

He poured water into the basin and picked up a small bar of soap, "Elsie, are you afraid? I've promised not to ravish you. You can't be shy of sleeping together. We've spent the better part of four days in bed together."

Looking down, she said, "Yes, Charles, but that bed was neutral ground. It wasn't your bed. The bed you sleep in every night. This feels different."

"Different because I sleep there every night? Would it help you to know that I've dreamed about you being in that bed with me many times?" he said gently.

"You've dreamed about me?"

"Yes, I tried to tell myself I shouldn't, but dream Elsie is very stubborn. Kept showing up no matter what I threatened to do, so I finally just gave up and let her stay," he said with a smile as he finished washing his hands.

"Completely unlike real Elsie, who isn't stubborn at all," she replied wryly.

"Completely," he agreed and taking her hand, guided her over to the bed where he lay down, coaxing her down beside him. She lay with her head on his chest, and his arms around her shoulders. Placing her hand on his chest, she slipped her fingers under the front of his shirt. He played lightly with the small ruffle on the neck of her nightdress.

"These aren't the same pyjamas you wore while we were on our trip."

His shoulders shifted a little, and he cleared his throat, "Well, no, these are my usual ones, but they're a bit worn. I bought new ones for our trip. I wanted to make a good impression."

She laughed, "Believe me, Charles, you made a good impression, several good impressions actually, but they had nothing to do with your pyjamas."

He hugged her closer and said, "This is a nice nightdress."

"Charles, it's the same one I took on our trip," she said dryly, "You just didn't see much of it."

"No; I suppose I didn't."

After a long pause, Charles asked, "Elsie, do you think, maybe, that I could have a picture of you?"

She smiled against his chest, "Yes, Charles, we'll try to find a way."


	15. Chapter 15

The following days were filled with a frustrating amount of activity. The family returned with the annual garden party following soon after. The bustle was no different from previous years but was somehow easier to bear because they both could look forward to the end of the day. Somehow, the time spent in each other's company, with neck or foot rubs and soft kisses, seemed to restore their spirits to the point that they didn't really mind the excess work. With the staff staying up later each night and rising earlier in the mornings to get the work done, they could not quite find the time or energy for more intimate activities.

With the amount of time they were able to spend together so limited, Charles was looking forward to walking to church with Elsie on Sunday. It would be a pleasant walk, and the ground was uneven enough that he would have an excuse to offer his arm. Yes; it would be most pleasant indeed. Which was why he was increasingly frustrated when Elsie was late coming into the servants' hall. Sending the rest of the staff ahead, he went to her parlor in search of her. Finding the door shut, he knocked lightly and entered without waiting for an answer. Elsie was sitting on her sofa with her head in her hands. Walking over, he sat beside her and asked, "Are you ill?"

"No," she answered with a sob.

Alarmed now, he asked, "If you're not ill, what on earth is the matter?"

"Charles, he'll know," she hissed, "the vicar will take one look at me and _know_ what we've been doing."

"Elsie, dear, we've a good vicar, but I don't think he can read minds."

"Don't joke! I'm so embarrassed, I could die!"

"Are you ashamed of us?"

"No, no, of course not," she said shaking her head, "I just-, Charles, I've been told for 42 years that what we are doing is very wrong, but I've never been happier in my life. I'm very confused."

Handing her his handkerchief, he said soothingly, "Elsie, do you think we're the only ones who have ever done this? The vicar will not know. If two people are able to love each other and find happiness together what business is it of anyone else? If the vicar is able to look at you and immediately know what we've been doing, then I'll ask him to read the banns today. And move that he be made archbishop of Canterbury immediately if he's that talented," he added under his breath.

Laughing a little at his joke as she dabbed her eyes, she said, "Charles, I appreciate your willingness to make an honest woman of me, but we've already discussed this and come to our decision. I just didn't expect to feel so guilty."

"Do you want to stay here today? We could probably make up some plausible excuse for missing the service. Although I would probably point out that since the house is practically deserted, we should take advantage of the situation to..."

"Charles Carson! We will most certainly not miss church because of my guilt only to engage in the very activities that caused it. We'll go. I just may have to avoid shaking the vicar's hand."

Taking her arm, they had a very pleasant walk to the church, separating at the door so that she could sit with the ladies, and he could stand in the back with the men.

Meeting her at the door after the service, he offered his arm for the walk back to Downton.

"Well, that wasn't too bad," she said with a smile.

"Did the vicar give you any suspicious glances?"

"No; he didn't, and I didn't feel too guilty. After all, what harm are we doing to anybody? We love each other. We should be able to be with each other. You make me very happy, and I do not want to give that up."

Seeing that they were the last of the group from Downton to leave, Charles directed them down a more private path back to the estate. After all, if they were late already what harm could a few more minutes be.

"Charles," Elsie began hesitantly when they were a little ways down the path, "To be honest with you, it is not what we're doing that makes me feel guilty, but the fact that I want it so very much. Maybe it's just because it's been a little while, but I think about it very often. I catch myself watching your hands at times, or when you brush past me and I smell you, I could kiss you right there in the middle of the hall. It's almost overwhelming."

Charles looked to the side of the wooded path thoughtfully and Elsie, seeing his look, said, "Don't even think of it. I'm not going home with dirt on my dress and leaves in my hair."

He smiled and sighed, "Elsie, I've been thinking of it quite a lot as well. When you pass me in the hall sometimes, it's all I can do not to take you to my pantry and make love to you against the wall. Perhaps once everything's settled down a little, and we're able to be together more often, it won't be so overwhelming."

Elsie stopped for a moment and stared at him in astonishment, "Charles Carson! How on earth did a discussion of my guilt over engaging in certain activities lead to you suggesting that we engage in those activities more often?"

"As I recall, this particular discussion was about your guilt over your _desire_ for those activities. The only way that I can think of to alleviate that desire is to satisfy it."

Shaking her head as they continued down the path, she said, "With your bargaining skills, it's no wonder we save money on supplies. I'm surprised the wine merchants don't offer to pay you to take their wine off their hands."

Laughing he patted her hand on his arm, and they continued to Downton.

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The garden party went well as always. Even though it was her first as housekeeper, Elsie had had Mrs. Dunmore's notes to rely on. She was glad that it was over and a success. Now, perhaps, she and Charles could find some time for the more intimate activities which she found she was missing very much. Her wishes came true when a few days after the garden party, the family went visiting and gave the staff an extra half day off in gratitude for their success. Mrs. Hughes made a quick tour of the downstairs to ascertain that what she suspected was indeed the case. She ended her rounds at her butler's pantry. Looking in, she saw Charles bent over a ledger. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't even look up at the clearing of her throat. "Charles," she began and he did look up at her use of his first name. "I just wanted to let you know that the staff has gone out for the afternoon."

It was a measure of his mental exhaustion that he still didn't quite catch her meaning, "Oh? That's good for them," he replied and turned his attention back to the ledger.

"Charles," she began again a little testily, "_All_ the staff."

He looked up sharply with a raised eyebrow, "Oh!" and began to rise.

"Would you like to..?"

"Yes!" he interrupted and followed her to her parlor.

He closed the door, locking it behind him for good measure. He turned to find that instead of walking on into the room, she had stood waiting for him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply with a thorough exploration of her mouth. He laid his head on top of her hair and whispered, "Missed you."

She laughed, "I should probably point out that you've seen me every day, but I've missed you- this- too."

He bent to kiss her again, more urgently this time, and she returned his kiss with eagerness. With gentle deliberateness, he backed her toward the sofa. When her backward progress was stopped by bumping into the sofa, she stood on tiptoe to reach him for another kiss as her hand snaked toward his tie. His lips moved from hers to nuzzle behind her ear. She gasped and fumbled a bit with his tie at his urgent attentions. "Would you like me to do that?" he whispered in amusement. His soft breath on the moistness behind her ear had a most disturbing effect, and she clutched at his shirt to keep her balance.

"Perhaps you should," she replied with a sigh.

He stepped back to remove his tie, waistcoat and shirt. With the removal of his lips' presence behind her ear, she found that her head cleared enough for her to begin on her own clothing. "You don't want to waste any time, do you?" he asked in appreciative amusement.

She gave him a level look, "Charles, is there really any need to pretend?"

He sobered a little at that, gathering her into his arms, "No, I suppose not."

Conversation was put on hold then while they explored each other's bodies with lips and hands. He pushed her gently down on the sofa to continue his exploration. His lips on her breast caused her to writhe in pleasure. She held his head against her, fingers entwined in his hair. Lifting his head to kiss her, he gasped when she touched him and began to trace her fingers over him with gentle strokes. "Elsie, if you do that, I won't be able to wait."

"I don't want to wait."

"Yes, love," he whispered and entered her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held his shoulders as he began the rhythm of lovemaking. He kissed her neck while her hands caressed his shoulders and back. She felt the muscles of his back tightening under her hands as he increased his pace. He felt her tightening around him as he saw the flush spreading over her chest. Crying out as she found her release, she heard his moan next to her ear.

A long while later they lay, sated, wrapped in each other's arms. "I've missed this," he said when he'd recovered a little.

"You've said that before," she pointed out, "but yes."

"Happy birthday, by the way," she murmured.

"Yes, very, thank you," he smiled, "the happiest of my life in fact."

That simple comment could be applied to almost any part of the next eight months. It was the happiest autumn, the happiest Christmas, the happiest New Year, and the happiest winter of his life. Their relationship was strained at times. The mere need to be discreet while seeing each other frequently through the day was difficult. At first, there were many times when he had to stop himself from reaching out to push a stray hair from her face, and her fingers itched to straighten his tie or smooth his collar. Those urges eased, however, and they both settled into a rhythm of intimacy behind closed doors and restraint in public. They would walk together to the village on their half days or sometimes for other errands. Kisses and soft touches were reserved for private moments in her parlor or his pantry. There was gossip of course but surprisingly little. It seemed that Charles was right, and most of the young people on staff couldn't imagine 'old Carson' having a torrid love affair.


	16. Chapter 16

On February 14, 1908, most of the staff and family were out celebrating the special day. Elsie thought that they probably all pitied the poor butler and housekeeper who had no one to love or to love them in return. "_If only they knew!" _she thought as she lay in her lover's arms. Charles had come to her door with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. Knowing her feelings on the matter, he assured her that this was most certainly not to celebrate Valentine's Day but the beginning of their relationship. Elsie made sure to put the flowers in water right away.

She asked him with a smile, "Does the gardener think you've got on my bad side again?"

"Yes, although I'm probably going to have to find another excuse. I don't know if he'll believe that I always just happen to make you angry around Valentine's Day," he replied as he pulled her into his arms.

"Especially since I'm such a sweet-natured woman."

Eyebrows lifted in disbelief, he said, "Yes, dear."

"Charles! You do realize that you're supposed to be seducing me, don't you?"

"Oh; is that why I came here? I'm not quite sure how to go about that. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Well, for starters you could kiss me," she replied smiling.

Kissing her on her forehead, he asked, "Like this?"

"Yes; if you want to seduce your sister. A little lower would be better."

Kissing her on the nose, "Here?"

She gave him a warning glance.

He bent to kiss her lips, grasping the back of her neck to draw her closer. After exploring her mouth, he trailed kisses along her jaw to the spot behind her left ear that was so distracting. "Better?" he whispered against her neck.

"Much," she sighed.

Scooping her up, he crossed to the armchair and sat with her on his lap. He unbuttoned the neck of her dress enough to make her more comfortable, and she removed his tie and collar. Then they sat there kissing, enjoying the feel of each other's lips. After a while, she pulled away to trail kisses down his neck. Laying her head on his shoulder as he drew her closer, she asked, "Whatever possessed you to be so direct last year? Don't misunderstand me. I'm very glad you were. I just was a little surprised."

He laughed ruefully and gave her a small smile, "Well, I suppose I was just fed up. I began planning a way to make my wishes known as soon as I knew you were going to be housekeeper. I tried desperately to find you under the mistletoe that Christmas, but we never quite made it. On New Year's Eve, I wanted to be with you at midnight, but there was some bloody crisis upstairs. Your first evening as housekeeper, we were sitting in your parlor, and you rushed me out before I could say anything. I even went so far as to consider luring you down to the cellar and conveniently getting locked in, losing the key, of course. In the end, it seemed that the best way was just to get it over with and hope you didn't toss me out."

Laughing softly, she said, "I wish I'd known how you felt. I avoided you that Christmas, because I was afraid you would kiss me in a friendly way, and I would kiss you back in a more than friendly way. I wouldn't have minded at all being locked in the cellar with you. I rushed you out of my parlor because I was afraid I'd say something foolish."

"Something foolish?"

"Yes; something along the lines of 'Charles Carson, I've been in love with you for ages. Please let me sit in your lap while you kiss me silly,'" she smiled.

"Elsie Hughes, please sit in my lap and kiss me silly," he said as he leaned toward her for another kiss.

After a long while, when his head was a little dizzy from her kisses; their embraces became more heated, and he urged her to stand so that he could remove her dress. Standing behind her he reached around to unbutton her dress, while kissing her neck softly. Smoothing his hands across the swell of her breasts above her corset, he said, "I really do hate corsets. Why do they have to be so complicated?"

"Charles quit grumbling and get the thing off."

"Yes, ma'am," he said as he pushed her dress off her shoulders and began to work at the fastenings on her corset.

"You're getting quite a bit faster with that," she said appreciatively, "I told you practice helped."

"It certainly does," he said as he finished and laid the corset on her armchair.

Turning in his arms, she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew his head down for a kiss. She loved this man dearly and intended to show him tonight. She began to work at the buttons on his shirt when he dipped his head to kiss along her neck to the spot behind her ear. Pulling her head back, she said, "Charles, that is distracting, and I want to enjoy undressing you."

Complying, he trailed kisses up to her temple while she continued to unbutton his shirt. She smoothed her hands over his chest, grazing his nipples with the tips of her fingers as she pushed his shirt open. He pulled away with a smile and held his arms out to her for her to undo the cuffs. When she had unfastened his cuffs, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and laid it gently on the armchair with her corset and dress. Leaning forward she lapped at his nipples with her tongue while he grasped her shoulders and whispered his pleasure. Laying her cheek against his chest, she started to unfasten his trousers when he grasped her hand. "I should probably take my shoes off first," he said with a smile in his voice.

"That would probably avoid some awkwardness later on," she agreed.

Sitting on the sofa he removed his shoes and then stood again, "Now would you like to finish your work, wife?"

"Yes, husband," she said working the fastenings on his trousers, bending to remove them and lay them on the armchair with their other clothes.

Placing his hands on her bottom, he drew her to him, "Is that enough to satisfy you?"

"For now," she replied leaning into his kisses.

They kissed for a long time, until Charles pulled back to catch his breath, "We need to lie down, dear."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, you've just kissed me silly."

She laughed as he lay on the sofa and pulled her on top of him. Scooting down she slid the tips of her fingers under his undershorts and slid them down his legs as he lifted his hips. She sat up and pulled her shift over her head and off, and then laid full length against him enjoying the feel of the coarse hairs of his chest and legs against hers. His hands lifted to caress her breasts while she lifted herself to straddle him. She pushed herself onto him and began to rise and fall slowly. His hands trailed down her sides to her hips to guide her and encourage her to increase the tempo. Lifting his head, he kissed her as he gripped her hips tightly and stiffened against her with his release. She drew his tongue into her mouth as she followed soon after. Then kissing her way to the angle between shoulder and neck, she lay against his chest humming in contentment.

Charles held his beloved close while she purred contentedly. He thought over the events of the past year and the fact that he'd probably made love more in one year of his life than he had in the previous forty nine. He certainly couldn't recall ever having been this happy and contented with his life. He loved this woman dearly, and he felt deeply honored and a little surprised that she loved him in return. Yes, there was certainly quite a lot for him to celebrate today, and he intended to do it with her.

"Elsie," he whispered, "may I come to you tonight?"

"To discuss candlesticks?"

"No, just to sleep with the woman I love."

"Ahh; then yes, so that I can sleep with the man I love."

Much later after all the children (as he privately thought of them) had come home and made their way to bed, he slipped into her room without knocking. Sitting there on the bed waiting for him, she stood as he entered, and he crossed to her quickly to gather her in his arms for a kiss. "Are you happy?" he asked.

"The happiest I've ever been."

"Good!"

"Are you happy?"

"The happiest I've ever been," he echoed affectionately.

They lay together then, holding each other, touching lightly. They were both aware of the rare treasure this time was and had no intention of squandering their time together with something as mundane as talk. They simply held each other with his cheek on her hair, his arms around her shoulders, her arms around his chest and their legs wrapped together. Lying like this they slept deeply and peacefully loving each other.

She awoke to find herself alone and with a little bit of an ache in her heart.


	17. Chapter 17

Over the next three months they became a little reckless as they both felt the impending separation that the London season would bring. They were never actually caught out, but Charles began to feel that their relationship was almost taken for granted by the rest of the staff. Often when someone was looking for him, they would come to her parlor before checking in his pantry. They would knock politely, and no one would enter until the door was opened by either Elsie or himself. A few sharp glances from his Lordship had made him wonder if even he suspected. He found that he couldn't quite stir himself to care. As long as nothing separated him from her, he was content to let everyone have their gossip.

Elsie couldn't bring herself to that level of nonchalance, but she found her discretion slipping as well. As she grew increasingly aware of the approaching season, she wanted to spend as much time together as possible. She wanted to build memories of him, of them, that would sustain her through the months apart. She also found herself becoming just a little jealous about the 'diversions' London would provide for her Charles.

One night while sitting together quietly on her sofa, she blurted out the question that had been on her mind for days, "The London housekeeper, is she very pretty?"

A little groggy, Charles had to think for a bit, "Hmmm, yes, I suppose so."

"Oh"

"If one goes for that sort of thing."

"That sort of thing?"

"Very skinny, all angles, no lovely roundness," he said as his hands moved to caress her bottom.

"And you don't, go for that sort of thing I mean?"

"You know that I don't," he said seriously, "Flat-chested, too," he continued, voice muffled as he kissed her bosom.

"Good," she replied firmly as she drew him to her.

The evening before the household's departure for London, they retired to her parlor earlier than usual. For some strange reason, the rest of the staff seemed to scatter. Perhaps it had something to do with the early departure for London; the staff was taking an early morning train so they could be at Grantham Hall well before the family. Regardless of the reason, finding themselves with privacy, they both seemed determined to enjoy it to the fullest.

He grasped her hands and drew her over to the sofa where he pulled her into his arms for a long embrace. Placing kisses on her hair and cheeks, he traced the curves of her back with his hands. Unable to resist, she turned her lips toward his to capture them for a kiss. His hands paused in their exploration of her back as he became mesmerized by the feel of her lips on his.

There was a gentle urgency to their lovemaking. He wanted to kiss each place that he knew would excite her. He spent an inordinate amount of time at the skin behind her left ear. Undressing her slowly, he kissed each inch of skin as it was revealed. He wanted to memorize her body again and imprint the touch of his lips on every spot. She wanted to remember each touch and kiss to sustain her in the months ahead.

She worked open the buttons of his shirt, spreading her hands over his chest as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders. She found the angle between neck and shoulder that made him shiver and placed a multitude of kisses there. Kissing down his chest she worked her tongue over his nipples. He groaned in pleasure and brought his hands up to caress her breasts. She leaned in to his touch and pulled back from her exploration of his neck to kiss him again. Having removed her dress, he pushed her gently down on the couch so he could continue his worship of her body with lips and tongue.

Although she enjoyed his attention to the details of her body, she began to feel a little impatient, especially as he trailed kisses below her navel. She knew his intention and gathered her wits enough to protest, "Charles, what are you doing?"

"Trying to give you pleasure," he replied a little testily, "but I keep getting interrupted."

"Charles," she responded carefully, "please understand, I love when you, you, well you know, but I want tonight to be mutual. I want to give you pleasure as well."

"My dear woman," he explained with an air of long suffering patience, "firstly, this does give me pleasure as well. Secondly, it is now 9PM. I do not have to leave you until at least 3AM. I will sleep on the train, not before. Do you now understand?"

"Yes, I understand now," she sighed, lying back against the cushions to enjoy his attentions.

A long while later, when he had accomplished his goal of giving her pleasure, he rose on his elbow to watch her with a mixture of pride and mild amusement. She opened her eyes to look at him as her breathing slowed and the flush receded from her face. Leaning forward to place a kiss on her forehead, he whispered in amusement, "And we still have five hours."

Laughing softly, she placed her hands on his cheeks and drew him to her for a kiss. Her hands slipped from his cheeks to grasp his shoulders and trail down to his elbows. She kissed him over and over, deeper and deeper, until the heat slowly rose in her again. She pushed her way upright and then bent to work at the waistband of his trousers. With just a little bit of assistance from him, she quickly had his trousers off and draped over the arm of her chair. As she came back to the sofa, he held out his hand to help her down. She did not take his hand however, but knelt before him instead. In one smooth motion, she took him in hand and leaned forward to place a kiss on the velvety skin she'd grown to love. His hips bucked off the sofa at the touch of her lips on him as he moaned her name. She worked her tongue and mouth over him as she felt his hips trembling and heard his moans. As his moans became more urgent and his hips began to buck, he grasped her shoulders and pulled her up his body. Pushing himself into her quickly, he drove his hips upward with a few quick, short thrusts, and he stiffened against her having found his release. Her own actions had excited her so much that she soon followed.

His arms fell to his sides, and she curled over him, listening as he caught his breath. "Elsie, that was… You didn't have to… "He finished with a sigh.

She smiled against his chest. Wonder of wonders, she'd made Charles Carson speechless!

He recovered slowly but surely from the intensity of his release. He stroked her shoulders and placed soft kisses on her forehead. Having recovered the powers of speech, he said, "That was a wonderful gift, Elsie. Thank you, but I don't want you to think that because I…"

"Charles, do you not think I might enjoy pleasing you as well?" she asked in indignation.

"Well, no, I didn't think actually," he spluttered in reply.

"Obviously!" and having made her point she lay back down at his side and pulled the rug over them.

He hugged her close to his side, and they lay there in silence gently caressing chest, throat, back, breasts, and sides. They neither slept, not wanting to waste this valuable time together.

"You'll write me?"

"Of course," she answered.

"Elsie, your letters are wonderful. They're almost like having you with me, except for the breasts, and the bottom of course. I do miss your bottom when we're apart."

She laughed, breath ghosting across his neck, "Your letters are nice as well, although you should probably leave the part about my bottom out. Tell me again, the London housekeeper, she is not very attractive?"

"Not to me," he agreed, "Elsie, darling, no woman is attractive to me but you. You have all the right parts in just the right measure: humor, intelligence, kindness, and packaged very nicely."

"Charles," she said very seriously, "you are a very good man. I can't think of any better way to say it. You are decent and honorable, and it honors me and makes me very happy that you love me."

"Likewise," he replied with a kiss to her forehead.

As 3 am approached, the light touches and strokes became a little more heated. He rolled her under him, so that he could slip into her warmth. He began the simple rhythm of love making while she stroked his chest and stomach. Placing kisses at her neck, he pushed her hips into the cushions. Slowly and gently, he coaxed her to her release. Watching her lips part and the flush spread across her chest, he found his own release approaching. As his thrusts became quicker and shorter, he heard her whisper her love for him in his ear as he tightened against her in complete abandon.

After a few short moments together, he rose to dress slowly. He turned back to look at her and saw her eyes shining. "It's only three months, love."

"Yes, I know."

With that he turned and left the room, not knowing that they were going to be apart in every way that mattered not for three months, but for four years.

**And the angst begins. Sorry for so much gratuitous sex in the previous several chapters, but I just felt they deserved it since I know what is coming. **


	18. Chapter 18

Elsie Hughes felt awful. It had nothing to do with the loneliness of missing Charles, although she did miss him terribly. She was bending over the basin in her room, having just emptied her stomach of what little food it seemed she'd been able to keep down for the last several days. She had been having some problems with feeling nauseated for a few weeks now, but the last week had been terrible. She had also been excessively tired. She had even dosed off in her parlor while going over household accounts once or twice. Again, this had been going on for a few weeks, and she had simply attributed it to the long hours spent packing and preparing for the family's departure. Charles had even expressed concern and a hope that she would be able to rest and recover after the family had gone to London. She really couldn't understand why she was so ill. It did seem to abate a little as the day wore on, and she was able to keep a little food down. Thankfully, she really just seemed to be sick in the mornings. That thought brought her up short. _Sick in the mornings, tired all the time?_ No, it couldn't be. Her cycles had been irregular for several months; surely that was no longer a possibility. Looking back she actually couldn't recall having her monthly since late February. She took a mental catalog of her symptoms: nausea-primarily in the mornings, an excessive tiredness, no cycle, and she had to admit that her breasts felt fuller. As the realization dawned of what was most probably the case, she groaned and sank to the floor.

She somehow made it through breakfast, eating a bit of toast and surprising Mrs. Patmore by asking for a glass of milk. After passing out the assignments for the day to the various maids, she sequestered herself in her parlor to think. She had to admit that the most likely scenario was that she was pregnant. It shouldn't have been so surprising. After all, she'd been making love with the man at every opportunity for the past eight months. She had just thought that at her age (43!), she was past all that. How could they have been so foolish! This development would throw quite a wrench in their whole plan of discretion. She amused herself for a moment with a mental picture of trying to convince a baby to cry discreetly in the butler's pantry. She had no idea what she would do. Work until she could no longer conceal the fact, she supposed, and then find something else.

Of course, her plans would have to be adjusted based on how Charles reacted. She couldn't decide how he would receive the news. He would offer to marry her; he would likely not only offer but insist. She knew his character enough to make that a certainty, but her concern was over how he might feel about her pregnancy. Shocked, certainly, but would he be happy or dismayed? She found herself hoping desperately that he would be happy. She was; she realized with a little surprise. While she was not happy at the thought of being the subject of Mrs. Patmore's gossip (they had a baby after just 6 months, weighed 9 pounds), she wanted this child very much. She wanted _his_ child very much. She didn't think she could stand it if she saw his face cloud with dismay at the news.

The thought of his reaction to the news brought her around to just how she was going to tell him. This news did not really seem to be appropriate for a letter: "_The weather is lovely. Mrs. Patmore is still annoying me about the key to the store closet. By the way, I'm pregnant with your love child." _No; definitely not appropriate for a letter. She would just have to wait until he returned in July. In the meantime, she would have to be very discreet. It would never do for someone else to suspect. She needed to make sure there was no gossip to inform him before she was able to speak with him.

She settled herself down to wait until the season was over. She wore her clothes just a little looser. She made certain that no one realized that she was sick in the mornings and was helped by the fact that the nausea seemed to abate. She found herself in her private moments to be unexpectedly overjoyed, cataloging the changes in her body which only confirmed her initial assessment. She was overjoyed that is until mid-June when she began to have cramps in her lower abdomen. This cramping was soon followed by bleeding, first a little, then more as she realized that her baby was lost. She did stay in her bed then, making the excuse that she was ill. Mrs. Patmore called Dr. Clarkson against her wishes. When he came, he confirmed her suspicions with a pitying look. He promised not to reveal her secret. Her despair over the loss abating any suspicions he might have had of the cause the miscarriage. He did insist that she rest, however, and threatened to write his Lordship himself if she did not take that rest voluntarily.

She wrote his Lordship, asking for time off to visit her sister. Receiving his permission, she left for her sister's home for one week to recover. Physically, she recovered quickly, but she was not sure that she would ever recover emotionally. To have such unexpected joy only to have it shattered was almost more than she could bear. She found herself deciding that she could not possibly tell Charles. It would have been one thing if he'd known of the pregnancy, but how could she present him with such terrible news when he'd never had the good. She also was just a little afraid that she might see relief in his face at her miscarriage, and she did not think she would ever be able to forgive him for that. No; it was best to go on as though nothing had happened, because in essence nothing had. Nothing that is, except her heart had been broken.


	19. Chapter 19

Charles felt awful. There was no doubt about it. This was the worst season he'd ever spent in London. He missed Elsie terribly. He found that he could not enjoy any of the diversions London provided. His deepest desire was to return to Downton and sequester himself with his beautiful Scottish housekeeper. He did not just miss making love, although there was a definite ache there. He also missed her company, her smiles, and her wry humor. In short, he missed her. He missed her so much in fact, that he spent a great deal of time trying to concoct a reason to return to Downton. When he realized that there was no plausible excuse for his return, he settled himself down to wait for the end of the season.

His melancholy had him wandering the streets of London rather than attending the diversions he usually enjoyed. He found himself noticing shops that were for sale or lease. He began, for the first time in his life, to entertain thoughts of a life away from Downton. While he loved his work at Downton and was devoted to the family, he loved Elsie more and was devoted to her in a way he could never be to a family not his own. He found himself wondering about asking Elsie to leave Downton and start a new life with him, to marry him. A part of him found it ridiculous to be thinking of starting a new life at 50 years of age, but a much larger part could not get the thought out of his head. He went so far as to make inquiries about a tea shop that was convenient to several businesses and theaters. The shop had a couple of rooms above, just what two people alone would need. He thought over the venture with some interest. He really thought that it could be successful, if he had someone to work with him. He took down the address of the current owner and promised to write him once he'd had the chance to talk it over with Elsie.

Charles' private musings were interrupted one morning by his Lordship's stating, "It seems Mrs. Hughes is going to visit her sister again this year. Apparently, she's been ill, and Dr. Clarkson is insistent upon her rest." All of Charles' training was brought into play as he fought to not show his surprise. Elsie had been ill? Why had she not told him? How serious was it? How on earth could he get back to Downton to check on her? His thoughts were in such a whir that he almost missed his Lordship's next question.

"Are you visiting family this year as well?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No sir, I had not intended to. However, perhaps I should return briefly to Downton to ensure that all is in order?"

"That sounds like an excellent suggestion Mr. Carson. Look at the schedule for a likely time and let me know when you'll be away. I'd not want you to be gone if we have any large dinners planned."

"Yes sir, of course sir," he agreed and strode purposefully out of the room to find the time as soon as possible.

While Charles would have dearly loved to have walked out of the house and taken a train straight to Downton, in reality it was nearly two weeks later before he was able to leave. He wrote to Elsie in the meantime but received no answer, which only served to agitate him more.

It was in this state of agitation that he rode the train to Downton Village. He was perplexed by Elsie's silence. He had received letters twice a week until mid-June and nothing for almost three weeks now. What could have possibly happened? He could not bear the thought of something happening to Elsie. The misery of his life these past two months was nothing compared to the thought of a life devoid of her presence.

Charles walked in the servant's door only to find Elsie standing in the hall speaking to one of the maids. A look of utter astonishment and horror came over her face momentarily until she brought her features under control. "Mr. Carson, this is a surprise. Why have you returned so early sir?" she said stiffly.

"_To check on you, you bloody, stubborn, hard-headed, beautiful woman_," he thought, but said, "When his Lordship heard of your illness, he asked that I come to check that you and the house were well."

"I assure you that both I and the house are well. The work here has certainly not suffered because of my brief absence," she replied still bristling.

While she spoke, he took in the paleness of her skin and her clothes lying just a little looser on her did not look perfectly well. He was sure that the house was though. She'd kill herself before letting the work slack around the house. The housemaid had taken the opportunity to slip off during this exchange. Despite the fact that their voices were never raised, it was obvious that a _disagreement _was brewing.

"Could we speak of this privately, Mrs. Hughes?"

She turned on her heel and led him to her parlor. Once the door was closed, he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him. She relaxed into him for a moment then stiffened and pulled away.

"Elsie what on earth has happened to you? I've worried myself sick about you these last two weeks. "

"It's nothing, Charles," she said with a smile to deflect his concern. "I was just a little ill. Dr. Clarkson was called, and he insisted on my rest. He told me that if I didn't ask for the time off, he would write his Lordship himself. I just visited my sister for a little while. I'm quite well now."

"Why didn't you write me?" he implored.

"Because I didn't want you to worry. It was only a minor illness, and I was soon quite well. There was nothing you could have done in London except worry, and it seemed silly to burden you with such a small thing."

"Your health is not a small thing to me, and you do not look quite well," he said with both conviction and concern.

"Charles, please, do not press me on this matter," she pleaded, "I need to be able to put on a strong front to direct the staff appropriately."

"You need to take care of your health, or you'll collapse from exhaustion," he pointed out, "Elsie, I don't think you realize how very dear you are to me. When I heard you were ill, I was out of my head with worry. My worry was only compounded by the fact that I had heard nothing from you since mid-June."

"Yes, I-I'm so sorry about that Charles," she said turning from him, "something came up and I was a little distracted." Her voice cracked just a little on the last few words.

"Elsie, dear, you'll never make me believe you are well when your voice sounds like that," Charles said with a hint of a smile in his voice, "Come to me."

She stepped gratefully into his arms and cried softly against his chest.

While he let her have her cry, he wondered if he should move to a more comfortable position. Then as her arms tightened around him, he decided to continue to stand holding her. He had stood stock still for hours in the dining or drawing room. He could certainly stand most comfortably holding this beloved woman for days if she wished it.

When her tears had slowed, and she seemed to be more relaxed, Charles asked, "Will you now tell me what has happened?"

She stiffened a little and started to pull back until his arms tightened around her preventing her retreat. "Nothing has happened Charles. I was ill, and now I am better."

He scoffed, "Better?"

"I am recovering then. I will be fine by the end of the season. How long will you be here?" she asked to change the subject.

"I have to return the day after tomorrow," he said with some regret, "Perhaps, I could take a little of your load today and tomorrow so that you may continue to recover."

"Charles that is not your place," she replied stiffly.

"No; it is not my place, but it would be my pleasure," he said with a gentle smile.

His persistent kindness forced her to relent, "Yes then; if you promise not to try to take charge too much."

He spent the rest of that day and the next taking care of Elsie. He did have some things to tidy up himself. A shipment of wine had arrived and been placed in the cellar, but he needed to organize and catalog it. He needed to look over some of the household accounts. For the most part, however, his chief goal was to see that Elsie Hughes was not overworked. He was aided in this quest by most of the staff. Whatever had happened, it seemed that most of them were concerned about their housekeeper as well. Mrs. Patmore never once grumbled about the store closet, and that to him pointed more to their concern than anything.

No matter how hard he looked, though, he could find no signs of lingering illness. Elsie was pale and had a drawn quality about her of one who has been through a terrible ordeal, but he could discern no true signs of sickness in her. She had no cough. She had no fever. She ate, although she seemed to be disinterested in food. If pressed, the only difference he could point out was that she seemed to be very sad.

It was this sadness that kept him in her parlor both nights. He found that he could not allow her to go off to bed alone. He reasoned to himself that she needed his company, although he probably needed the reassurance of her presence more. With gentle insistence, he drew her to lie on his chest and stroked her hair and back until she went to sleep. To his surprise, she offered only a small protest and seemed almost grateful for his presence. He had been rebuffed too many times to ask her again, but he fell asleep both nights feeling wetness on his chest that he was sure were her tears.

The train ride back to London gave him time to wonder. He could not figure out what could have possibly happened. She had been very ill, of that there was no doubt, but what illness would one recover from so relatively quickly and completely. He had probed the staff discreetly, but none of them seemed to really know exactly how she was ill. The sadness was what had him the most perplexed and concerned, however. She also seemed to withdraw from him while at the same time needing his company. Had her illness somehow made her feel vulnerable, fragile? Was it possible that someone had done something to her? This thought almost had him ready to change to a north bound train at the next station, but he thought that she would have told him if that was the case or else others of the staff would have heard something. No; he would have to have faith in her and wait patiently for her to be ready to tell him what was wrong. Of one thing he was certain, the three remaining weeks in London until the end of the season were going to be very long indeed.


	20. Chapter 20

As usual, they were both very busy after the return to Downton. He had three months of household accounts to review. While he had made a start on them three weeks earlier, it would take more than two days to get that paperwork done. She on the other hand was of course preparing for the garden party. This party was one of the biggest social events for Downton each year and most of the preparation always fell on the housekeeper. Charles watched Elsie closely and satisfied himself that the paleness was gone, and her clothes did not hang as loosely. The sadness seemed to linger, however, troubling him.

While he had not told her about the tea shop and his plans when he came home three weeks earlier, he was eager to do so now. He looked for opportunities to bring up his plans and ask her to join him. She seemed so preoccupied, however, that he decided to wait until after the garden party. She seemed to almost be avoiding being alone with him, but he was sure it was just the usual bustle of the family's return and the largest party of the year.

There was a difference in the few times they were alone as well. While she accepted his hugs and gentle touches gratefully, when his touches or kisses grew more ardent, she stiffened and pulled away. He assumed that she was still perhaps recovering a little, and the preparations for the garden party were probably exhausting her. There was briskness to her manner at times which troubled him, though. It seemed that an argument could erupt over the most benign comment on his part. Where once he looked forward eagerly to any chance to speak to Elsie, he now found himself avoiding conversations.

Once when she brought him the menu for the party so that he could pair the wines, she simply dropped it on his desk and walked away. At any other time, this would have been an occasion for a quick hug and a teasing comment about how he now had an excuse to spend some time in the wine cellar, perhaps even an offer to join him. He had so come to expect her teasing that he couldn't resist asking, "Elsie, are you sure that you are well?"

"Charles, I do wish you'd stop asking! Yes, I'm fine! I'm just a little tired and preoccupied by the party. Forgive me?"

"Yes, of course. Perhaps after the garden party we'll be able to find some time alone," he said smiling, but stopped when he saw the look of concern that flitted across her face.

"Perhaps," she agreed a little sadly.

Elsie left the butler's pantry on that occasion in a state of agitation. She was so agitated that she felt the need to return to her parlor for a few moments to gather her thoughts. She knew that Charles wanted to make love, to be honest she did herself. Every time that she even thought about it however, she found herself worried about getting pregnant again. She would not have minded the pregnancy, but she did not think she could go through another miscarriage. She didn't have any more heart left to break. She was terribly confused and distraught. Her distress was compounded by the fact that she couldn't talk this over with Charles. She was still determined not to tell him about her miscarriage. She could not see any way that it would benefit him to know. He would either be deeply saddened by the news, or she was still just a little frightened that she would see relief when she told him. She did not realize that he would have been glad to share in her distress if only she would allow him.

The garden party went splendidly, of course. The house staff was given a half day off to celebrate which was quickly becoming a tradition, and the butler and housekeeper were left alone at home which was also quickly becoming a tradition. Charles came to her this year, with a small jewelry box in his pocket and a hopeful feeling in his chest, while she sat in her parlor worrying about being left alone with him. "I just wanted to let you know the staff has gone out Elsie. _All_ the staff," he echoed her words from a year before with a smile.

She looked up at him not with the welcoming smile he'd expected but with a look of deep concern. "Oh, have they?" her voice rising just a little on the last word

The smile dropped from his face as he came into the room. "Elsie, I have been trying to be patient with you, but it's obvious to me that you're worried about something. I wish very much that you would tell me what is wrong," he said in the gentlest tones he could manage.

"Nothing-," she began, but his level look was all it took for her to decide to not insult his intelligence further by insisting that nothing was wrong.

"Charles, I cannot tell you. Please trust me when I tell you that physically I am quite well. I just need some time and space to think things over."

His face falling, he asked, "Do you mean you need to think about us?" There had most certainly not been a slight quaver in his voice. He was a butler, his voice did **not** quaver.

"Yes," she answered with a sigh, "I mean to think about us."

He found that his frustration and worry of the past several weeks quickly turned to anger, "Three months while I was away in London was not enough time?"

"No; it was not," she said anger rising to meet his.

"Elsie, I asked that you be very sure about this before we ever deepened our relationship. You assured me that you were. We've been happy together for over a year now. At least, I've been happy. What has happened to change that?"

"Nothing has happened, Charles. I still care for you very much. I just don't know if I can continue with…"

He cut her off, "You **care **about me. Before I left for London, you **loved** me. I can't turn my feelings off and on as you obviously can. Either you love me or you don't, it's a simple matter, Elsie."

"It's **not** a simple matter, Charles. I care about you deeply. I just can't be with you physically right now."

"Is there someone else?" he asked fearing to hear the answer.

"Why on earth does there have to be someone else? Charles, all I am asking for is some time to think. Your shouting at me is not going to help with that," she said anger rising further as she realized it was much easier to be angry than sad.

"I am not shouting!" he said then lowering his tones, "I am simply trying to understand what has happened to change how you feel about me."

"Please believe me when I say that nothing has changed. I need time to think about us. It does stem from my illness this summer, but that is all I can tell you right now."

He digested this for several moments. "Elsie, there is just one thing that I need to know. Your illness this summer, did anyone _harm_ you in any way?"

"No; no one _harmed _me as you put it," she replied and then more forcefully, "Charles I wish that you would stop bothering me about this! Can you not understand that I just don't want to talk about it?"

He straightened then, cold anger in his eyes, "No, Mrs. Hughes, I cannot understand why you will not tell me what has caused you such distress, but I will not bother you any further. If you wish to speak to me you certainly know where to find me."

"Charles, please…"

"Mr. Carson, if you please, madam," he cut her off stiffly.

With that he walked out of her room and stopping only to pick up his jacket and hat, he headed for the Grantham Arms with every intention of not returning until he was drunk.

She sat quietly after their exchange, and she started to relent in her decision to keep her pregnancy and miscarriage from Charles. She convinced herself that he would not be relieved by the news and that even if he was, he deserved to know. Not realizing that he had gone out, she walked to his pantry. Finding he was gone, her resolve strengthened to never tell him of her miscarriage.

After their argument their relationship was formal and a bit strained. Their meetings which had once been a source of delight, became torture for them both. Sitting beside each other at meals was pure hell. For his part, he simply could not bear to go on as if nothing was wrong when he knew perfectly well that there was something very much wrong. She didn't want him to _bother _her, and he would not. Let her come to him if she ever wanted. She found that the longer she went without telling him, the more difficult it became to even consider broaching the subject. During all this time, they drifted more and more apart. There were no more arguments, but there was no more Charles and Elsie, either.

If he couldn't have all of her, he almost couldn't bear to be near her. Occasionally, he would catch her scent and be almost overwhelmed by the desire to bury his head in her neck. He would see her walking down a hallway and want to catch her in an embrace. The only way to deal with his desires was to build a wall around his heart and avoid her as much as possible. He was polite to her in a coldly formal way. He entertained the thought of trying to find another position, but only briefly. The thought of never seeing her again was not one he could seriously consider. He was able, given time, to endure their meetings. The anger slipped away, but the hurt remained.

Elsie saw the wall that he was building between them but had no idea how to breach it. She was still angry with him. If he'd only given her time, she might have been able to tell him. Now, he'd left her to deal with her heartbreak all on her own. She wanted nothing more than to sink into his embrace but knew he would likely push her away. She thought about leaving, even went so far as to look at advertisements, but even without his love, she felt that she needed his presence. She came to be able to endure being so close to him without being held closely by him and slowly the anger ebbed away leaving her with only her heartbreak.

They were both miserable with the situation. Their only respite each year were the months of separation that the London season would bring.


	21. Chapter 21

Things continued in this strained, formal way for the next four years. They seemed to all outward appearances to have a good working rapport, but they studiously avoided any personal inquiries or discussions. They spent the minimum time necessary together to discuss the business of the house. There were certainly no cups of tea served at these meetings. Each inhabiting and ruling their own domain, they were able to avoid any chance meetings. Where Charles would have once inquired of Elsie regarding staff decisions, he now made those decisions alone. Elsie found that there was no one in whom she could confide or laugh about the annoyances of running the large house. Without being able to share each other's load, they both found that load much heavier. Over time Charles began to look rather beaten down by the strain of dealing with such a large staff and household. Elsie found that she did not laugh nearly as often and came to be known as rather a severe woman.

Charles did find, however, that he could not be completely unfeeling in regards to Elsie. When a young footman named Thomas was being rather impertinent to Elsie, he glared at him over her shoulder, making certain to move away before she turned around. He noticed one winter that her coat was looking a little threadbare and contrived to have silver polish spilled on it, necessitating the purchase of a new one from the 'Uniforms' account. When Elsie protested, he coldly informed her that Downton Abbey could not be inconvenienced by the illness of its housekeeper.

On the other hand, Elsie made every effort to see that Charles was supported without him realizing where that support came from. She defended him to the younger staff, but never in his hearing. She would countenance no disrespect and this was well known among the staff. One winter he developed a rather severe cold, and she ensured that peppermint tea was delivered to him each evening until the cough subsided, with the understanding that it came from Mrs. Patmore of course. When there was a late evening for the family and consequently for the butler as well, he always found a plate of sandwiches and glass of milk on his desk.

The only outward sign that they had even had a deeper relationship was that each year Elsie made quite sure to be away from the house on February 14th and August 4th, the beginning and ending anniversaries of their relationship. Charles, however, stayed in on those dates, sequestering himself in his pantry, and had exactly three generous helpings of single malt. He rarely drank anything stronger than the occasional glass of wine at any other time, but found without this medication, as he thought of it, he could not get to sleep on those nights.

The first break in their estrangement occurred in April, 1912 as the devastating loss of life caused by the sinking of the Titanic became apparent. Elsie couldn't sleep and came down to the kitchen to make some cocoa to try to ease her nerves. She saw a light on under his pantry door. She could only blame her own nerviness that instead of passing by as she usually would have; she knocked and took his answering grunt as permission to enter. She found him with his legs stretched out before him and leaned back in his chair appearing totally exhausted. "Charles?" she asked, worried enough to use his given name for the first time in almost four years.

He looked up as he realized who had invaded his domain and was tired enough to forget himself and use her first name as well, "Did it occur to you, Elsie, that it could have been any one of the children who died on that ship? William, Daisy, Anna, Gwen. Any of them, had they chosen to go to America to 'seek a better life', would certainly have been in steerage."

"Yes, Charles, it did occur to me. That is why I am now headed to the kitchen to make cocoa instead of in my bed asleep," she responded and again she blamed her nerves for her next question, "Would you like to join me?"

He sat up in surprise then and looked at her intently, "Yes, I believe I would."

As they made their way to the kitchen, Elsie ventured a comment, "You didn't mention Thomas or Miss O'Brien."

"No, I'm certain they would have found a way off the ship," he replied with a half smile and raised eyebrows.

"Yes, I suppose they would at that," she agreed with a small laugh.

When they arrived at the kitchen, she started to heat the milk while he retrieved the cocoa from the pantry. As she stirred the milk, she glanced at him sideways, "You think of them as 'the children'?"

"Yes, I do," he nodded, "I've told you before that I feel a bit responsible for them. Since I've never been blessed with children of my own, I suppose I consider myself their substitute father in a way."

She started just a little at his comment and almost spilled the cocoa. After a moment she cleared her throat, "You would have seen children as a blessing, then."

"Well of course," he asked in surprise, "wouldn't you?"

Staring down at the stove she said, "Yes, I would have."

Her tone of voice four years ago would have caused him to draw her into his arms but that was four years ago. Now he just set the mugs beside the stove and waited for her to fill them.

Sitting at the table, sipping their hot drinks slowly, he looked over at her, and a stray thought came to him, _"This is what it would have been like in those two cozy rooms above the tea shop._" He had to look down into his mug then, studying the dregs for the answers to life. Setting it down quickly he rose, "Thank you very much, Mrs. Hughes; I'm off to bed now." With that comment he departed quickly.

To say that their relationship after that was easy over the next year would be a stretch, but it was certainly easier. They met more often to discuss the business of the house, eventually they were meeting almost daily. They were able to return in some ways to their previous ease with one another, but they continued to avoid any personal inquiries. They both found themselves seeking the other out for advice on dealing with staff. To keep this fragile amnesty from breaking, they were both very cautious with each other.

The next time Charles found himself thinking of the tea shop was when Lord Grantham asked him what he thought of the old chauffer running one. Charles didn't have to think for long. While those two cozy rooms would have been pure heaven to share with Elsie before, during and after each day, they would have been pure hell without her. He shocked his Lordship by letting him know that he would rather be put to death than run a teashop. _"Without Elsie,"_ he added mentally.


	22. Chapter 22

**More angst, but some fluff at the end because I just can't bear these two being angry at each other.**

Charles Carson lay on his bed staring into the darkness. For the second night in a row he could not sleep. Leaning over he struck a match so that he could read his watch on the bedside table, 2:15am. He really needed his sleep tonight. Not being a young man anymore, he really couldn't stand even 24 hours without sleep, let alone 48. He briefly thought about going down to his pantry for some of his 'medicine' but really didn't want to face all those stairs. Besides, he'd be damned before he would let a woman make him into a lush.

It was a woman who was the source of his insomnia, the only woman as far as he was concerned; Elsie. He thought he'd been going along pretty well with a wall built up nicely between his feelings and her. Then, they'd had that late night conversation over hot cocoa a few weeks ago, and he'd begun to see her as a friend again. That had been the first crack in the mortar. Then a few weeks later on the day of Lord Grantham's heir's memorial service, he had hurt her feelings and felt the need to apologize. Now the wall was starting to crumble. He couldn't decide if he wanted to take a sledgehammer to the wall to bust it down or to start slathering on more mortar.

The conversation which had led to her hurt feelings was what had him awake both these nights with one part of him wishing to wring her neck and the other part wishing to kiss it. She'd made a comment about his Lordship's family not being their family, and he'd bitterly told her that they were the only family he had. Her hurt expression had reminded him that she had once been his family. He was so shocked that he apologized before he even knew what he was doing. What had shocked him even further was her next question about whether he wished he'd taken a different path, one that would have led to marriage and a family. To prevent himself from telling her that indeed he did, he wished he'd taken that different path with her, he turned her question back on her. Her reply that she sometimes wished she had left him speechless and nearly breathless.

The confusion her answer had brought him was what had him wanting to kiss her neck. Did she wish she'd taken that different path with him? If that was the case, a part of him would gladly break the wall down and walk on any path she wished to take him. The anger her answer had brought him was what had him wanting to wring her neck. As he recalled, he had offered her that different path. He had offered to marry her, and she had not accepted that offer. Although he knew they could never have had children, he would have gladly married her and worked in a shop to support her. He would have dug ditches to support her if that was the only work he could find; anything, as long as he was able to come back to her at the end of the day.

Was that really fair though? Had he actually asked her to marry him? Had he told her that he wished to marry her? Or had he merely offered to marry her, if she wanted it? He rather thought it had been more of the latter instead of the former. He had offered to marry her as one might offer to pick up a bit of polish in the village to save the other a trip. He had planned on asking her, telling her that it was his dearest wish, but then they'd had that terrible row so he'd torn up the address of the London shop into tiny bits and pushed the jewelry box to the back of his dresser drawer.

Thinking back over their trip, their 'honeymoon', he thought of the promises he'd made to her. He groaned, remembering that time together was a mistake. He would certainly not get to sleep as a much larger part of him now wanted to kiss her neck. Lighting the candle beside his bed, he rose to get dressed. As he dressed, he remembered those promises again. 'As long as we both shall live' he'd said. He'd promised to love, honor, and cherish her. That he still loved her, there was no doubt. There would never be another woman for him. He had tried to cherish her. Even now, he tried to make sure that she was cared for. He needed to make arrangements so that she would be cared for after his death and promised himself he would do so. Had he honored her though? Was it honoring her to shout at her when she was obviously distraught? Was it honoring her to turn away from her coldly but politely? No, it was not. For that he was very sorry. He would not, could not tell her that now, but he would keep his promise going forward. With this resolve, he went downstairs to work, promising himself that he would not take any 'medicine'.

Elsie Hughes could not sleep. It was, of course, Charles Carson's fault. It always was. She could not get their conversation of two days ago out of her head. He'd bitterly declared that the family they served was the only family he had. She had been surprised at how much that had hurt. He had been her family and she his, at one point. A part of her wished that was still true. Not able to help herself, she'd asked him if he wished he'd taken another path that would have led to marriage and children _with me_ she'd added silently. He had not answered her, had even looked away so that she couldn't read his answer in his eyes. She had told him though, had needed to tell him, that she wished that she had taken that different path.

She wished she'd taken his offer of marriage when he'd first made it. If she had, they would have been together when she first suspected her pregnancy, and she'd have told him immediately. She was almost sure now that she would have seen joy in his eyes at the news. He would have shared her heartbreak over her miscarriage, and with his strength she might have even been willing to try again to have a child. If she had only known whether he really wanted to marry her or was merely willing to do so if she wished.

She thought back over their 'honeymoon', and then realized what a mistake that was. She would certainly not get to sleep now. Rising, she pulled on her robe and put on her slippers. She would have to go down and have just a very small glass of whiskey if she planned on any sleep tonight. As she walked down the stairs, she thought of the promises she'd made to him. She still loved him, of course. There would never be another man for her as long as he lived. She had tried to cherish him, to care for him, as much as he would allow. Had she honored him though? She had certainly not honored him with her trust. She should have trusted that he would feel the same sorrow that she did over her miscarriage and honored him by telling him the truth. There was nothing she could do about the past, but she resolved to be truthful with him in the future.

Coming to the bottom of the stairs, she saw a light on in the kitchen. Forming the mild scolding she would give whichever member of the staff she caught up at this hour in her mind, she walked quietly in to confront them.

"Blast it all, why will this bloody bread not cut straight?" Charles was mumbling to himself.

Elsie watched surprised and slightly amused as Charles tried to slice a piece of bread. Clearing her throat, she said, "Charles?"

Unfortunately, he was surprised enough that he sliced his finger instead of the bread. "Oww!" he said as he dropped the knife and tried to staunch the flow of blood, "Elsie, what the devil are you doing up at this hour?"

"Come to my parlor so I can bandage that," she said turning on her heel, not waiting for him to agree, "I could ask you the same."

He followed her meekly to her parlor and sat on the chair she indicated, "I couldn't sleep so I came down to look over the orders that go out day after tomorrow. I thought I'd have a sandwich, and so I was in the kitchen slicing some bread. Until you snuck up on me and made me cut my finger half off," he finished with a smile.

"I did not sneak up on you," she said as she brought her small box of bandages and the candle back to the table, "Let me see your hand."

He hesitated before holding his hand out to her. She took it in both of hers and removing his handkerchief, looked at the cut. "I would hardly call this cutting your finger half off, but it is a pretty good slice. Let me clean it and bandage it for you, and I'll make you your sandwich."

Distracted a little at first by the view he had of her neck and her scent, he almost forgot to answer. Catching himself, he said hurriedly, "I appreciate your bandaging my finger, but I am not completely helpless. I can make my own sandwich."

She glanced up at him, a little amused until she realized just how close he was, "Considering I am now holding your bleeding hand, I am not so sure that you can. Did you realize that you were using the wrong knife to cut the bread?"

"There's a wrong knife to cut bread?"

"Well, let's just say there's a right knife to cut bread. Surprisingly, it is known as a bread knife," she said with a smile in her voice as she cleaned the cut.

"A bread knife? Please enlighten me," he said, smiling himself a little now.

"It has a serrated edge so that it cuts through the crust, and you don't mash the 'bloody bread' down," smile increasing as she wrapped a small bandage around his finger and tied it.

"Well, then, Elsie, would you please make me a sandwich with the right kind of knife? I will pay you for it with a wee drab of my single-malt," rising, he held his hand out to her to help her up.

"It would be my pleasure, Charles," she said as she took his hand to let him pull her up.

They stood facing each other awkwardly for just a moment until he turned to go to his pantry in search of his single-malt. She watched him for a moment longer, and then walked to the kitchen to make two sandwiches. She did not think that she would miss sleep very much tonight.

As he retrieved his whiskey and two small tumblers, he thought that he could do quite well without sleep tonight.


	23. Chapter 23

They continued on in this friendly but strained way for the rest of that year and into the next. Elsie found that she was ridiculously pleased when Charles would ask to walk with her to the village or to church. Charles found that he now actually enjoyed sitting beside her at mealtimes and looked forward to their evening meetings more and more. Unfortunately, they were both afraid of losing this tentative friendship to push forward to the next step. In the late spring of 1913 Elsie received a letter from an old friend, well a little more than a friend actually. She had not felt about him as she did Charles, but she had been fond of him. It seemed he was now a widower and would like to renew their relationship. She was curious enough to meet him, but a small part of her knew that part of her curiosity was for the possible opportunity to get away from Charles and her confused feelings about him.

She met him in the village, nervous as a schoolgirl, and he took her to the Grantham Arms. It was pleasant to catch up on his life and home. He took her to the fair and won a doll for her. She had to admit that it was nice to be courted a little. He made his intentions clear that night. He wanted her to marry him. He was lonely, and they had been good together. She reflected as she walked back to Downton that she was sure that they could be comfortable together again, although there would never be the heat that had been in her relationship with Charles. He gave her time to think about his question, and she promised him and herself that she would. As Elsie came though the servant's door, she looked to see Miss O'Brien and William sitting at the table far apart. Poor William looked as though his heart was broken. More disturbing to her was the fact that she was very disappointed to not see Charles and to see that there was no light on in his pantry. As the others came in and she made her way up the back stairs, she heard him though, coming out of his pantry like a great, rumbling bear. The relief of hearing his voice made her realize that she could never, never marry another man while she felt as she did for Charles Carson.

Charles found himself morosely sitting in his pantry waiting for Elsie to come home. He was tired. The _easy _night with just the family to dine had turned out to be anything but easy. He very much wanted to go to bed but found that he could not rest until he knew she was home. He thought there was something odd in her taking the night off. He had a suspicion that she'd gone to meet someone and was most unreasonably jealous. He had no real claim over her anymore. He should not be feeling this way. Hearing the door open and her footsteps in the hall, he sat up to watch for her. She stood outside his door not knowing that he was observing her. Studying her profile closely, he took in the new lines of strain around her eyes. He traced her profile with his eyes. Closing his eyes, he could still feel every curve and part of her body with his hands and lips. Opening his eyes, he saw that she turned to go up to bed, he assumed, still not realizing that she was being observed so closely. Thomas and the others came in, and Thomas made a comment about Elsie being 'sparkly'. That was more than he could stand. Mentally he cursed the man who made her sparkle, the fair and himself for letting her go. Out loud he contented himself with growling at Thomas. Walking back into his pantry, he knew he would have to have at least one glass of 'medicine' to sleep that night.

When she called him into her parlor a few days later, he had a sinking feeling in his chest. He prepared himself. He was sure that she would leave Downton, leave him. He wondered how much notice she would give. Perhaps he could convince her to work out at least a five year notice. He sat and listened politely as she told him of her farmer, who had now proposed on two separate occasions. Working with his father he'd once been kicked in the chest by a colt. That was nothing to how he felt in the long minutes that he thought Elsie was going to leave. As he came to understand that she would not be leaving, a heavy weight lifted from him, and he felt able to breathe again. He was so relieved that in that moment he could have kissed her, if Anna hadn't been standing there of course.

He blamed his actions later that night on his almost giddy relief for Elsie's continued presence at Downton. He wondered through the several courses at dinner, through serving after dinner drinks to his Lordship and Mr. Crawley, and through the straightening up after the family had gone to bed why exactly Elsie had not left. She had told him that she had refused the farmer years before when she first came to Downton. That had certainly been because of him. Was her refusal this time also because of him? He found himself with a tiny bit of hope. Passing by her parlor after locking up the house, he saw the ghost of a light under her door. Almost before he knew what he was doing, he knocked on her door. She called to him to enter, and he came into the room stopping in the doorway to see that she had just risen from her armchair and was turning toward the door. He blurted out the question that had preoccupied him all evening, "Was it for me?" A moment later he clarified unnecessarily, "Was it for me that you stayed?"

"Yes, Charles, it was for you that I stayed," she answered clearly so there would be no confusion.

"Thank you," he said in a very quiet voice.

Elsie crossed to where he stood in the doorway and, unable to restrain herself any longer, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. His arms encircled her shoulders, and he rested his cheek on top of her hair. They stood there for a long while not moving until she pulled back a little. "Charles, I don't know if we can begin again, but I would like very much to try," she said looking up into his eyes.

He placed his hand on her cheek, "Elsie, it is late. This will require a bit of talking, and I don't want to say anything I'll regret. Can we leave it for tonight that I would very much like to try as well?"

"Yes, that sounds like a good place to start," she said as she leaned into his chest once more.

The following afternoon was thankfully their afternoon off. Charles did not think his nerves could have withstood any further delay. Five years was quite enough. He came out of his pantry after lunch to see Elsie with her hat on, pulling on her gloves. He smiled, it seemed that if they wished they could certainly still think alike. Silently, placing his bowler on his head, he held the door open for her. It was a pleasant day, and the sun warmed him as they started away from the house. They walked toward the village until she asked, "Do you need to go to the village for any reason, Charles?"

When he shook his head, she indicated a small lane off the main road, and as they started off for a bit of privacy he held his arm out to her. Taking it she gave his forearm a squeeze, and he pulled her arm a little tighter. A little way down the lane, they found a tree with a twisted branch low enough to make a suitable bench. By her quickened steps when they spotted it, he suspected she knew it was here.

"Shall we sit for a while?" he asked.

She smiled, "That was my intention."

He spread his handkerchief out for her to sit on, and she smiled at his thoughtfulness.

Once they were settled, side by side, shoulders barely touching, he began, "Elsie, I have missed you, this."

"Yes, Charles."

"You probably know that I have been angry, hurt and resentful, but I have never stopped loving you. I apologize for the pride and fear that has kept me from telling you how much I need you."

She gave a choking sob and buried her head in his chest. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her back as he hugged her to him.

"Ought I not have been so frank?" he asked tentatively.

"No, no, no," she sniffed, "it's just rather a turn around to go from nothing to everything."

"I'd offer you my handkerchief, but you're sitting on it."

She laughed, "That's quite all right."

She waited for a moment so that she could speak without sounding like a sniveling fool, "Charles, it is more my fault than yours, I've always known where you were. My own stubborn pride has prevented me from coming to you. It wasn't until there was the prospect of my leaving you that I realized I never wanted to."

Turning her toward him, he bent and kissed her very gently, too gently in her opinion and his too apparently, because he quickly deepened the kiss. When he lifted his lips from hers, she pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

"I've missed you so much," she whispered into his chest.

After a few moments, he placed his hand on her cheek and tilted her head back so that he could see her eyes, and she could see his. He wanted her to see the seriousness of his next words.

"Elsie, we cannot go back. I meant what I said yesterday; life has altered us. It can't ever be quite like it was, but I do still love you. I believe that we can make this work, but we, I, have to go very slowly. I cannot bear what the last five years have been. It was your unwillingness to be completely honest with me that hurt and angered me. I don't need you to tell me about the past, but I need you to promise to be honest with me in the future. If something is important enough to hurt you, then it is important enough for me to know about."

"Yes, I can be honest with you in the future, but I ask that you respect my wishes to not discuss the past. I don't want to rush into anything either, but I hope that we can be together, really together again. You were my friend before anything else, and I would like you to continue to be my friend."

"Elsie," he began again hesitantly, "I wonder if-, I just-. Do you realize what we'll be risking if we attempt this again? We have been able to tolerate each other, and I believe over the past year we've even been able to become friends again. I would consider you to be possibly my best friend now. If we attempt a deeper relationship and it doesn't work this time, I'm afraid we could never have that again. It is that that has made me too afraid to say anything before this. I want a second chance, but I also know this will be our last chance."

"Yes, Charles, I have realized that. I have been so afraid of losing what little I do have of you that I have been unwilling to try to have more. Now, though, I realize that having only a little of you can never satisfy me. I need to know you and be known by you completely. If I can't have that, then I will leave."

"Will you at least promise me to think about this while we are away this season? It seems we are always ready to start something new at the beginning of a long separation," he said with a sad smile, "If we both still wish it, we can begin when I return in July."

"Yes, Charles, I promise you that. May I write to you this year?"

"I would like that very much," he said smile brightening at the thought, "I have missed your letters."

They sat like that for awhile, until they became a little uncomfortable, and the sinking sun let them know that it was time to return to Downton. They walked back down the lane together with her arm tucked in his and his hand covering hers until they reached the main road. Walking the rest of the way in companionable silence, they re-entered their lives and their roles.


	24. Chapter 24

Charles heart beat just a little faster at the sound of the postman's knock. He retrieved the post and flipped through it quickly. He smiled as he saw the familiar small, neat handwriting with a return address of Downton Abbey. Slipping the letter into his inner jacket pocket, he sorted the rest of the post into bills, letters for the family, and letters for other servants noticing there was another letter from Downton Abbey addressed to Mr. Bates.

He, of course, placed the bills on his own desk to take care of and present later to his Lordship. He left the servants' mail on the table for them to sort through, except for the letter for Mr. Bates, which he tucked into his pocket as well. He would hand that to him personally. It might be best if neither Thomas nor Miss O'Brien noticed the return address on that one. Carrying the family's mail upstairs, he felt the presence of her letter in his pocket almost like physical warmth. She had written him twice and sometimes three times a week since he'd come to London. He had been wrong when he'd said they could deepen their relationship again when he returned in July. These letters were drawing him closer to her already, and his answering letters to her grew warmer each time.

There was never anything overtly romantic in either her or his own letters. They had both lived for too long in houses where a private letter could easily be _accidently_ held over a steaming kettle and _accidentally_ read to be so incautious. However, since he knew her so well, he could easily read between the lines. She inquired about the health of the London housekeeper in one of her earliest letters, and Charles assured her in his return letter that she was indeed still very thin. When she referred to sandwiches, he knew she was thinking of those shared plates six years ago sitting together on a bed and perhaps a few months ago when she'd broadened his education in regards to knives. The most important thing in all these letters to him was the closing; "As ever, your housekeeper, Elsie." He would hold each letter after it had been read three or four times, running his thumb across that line. He made sure to sign his own letters; "As ever, your butler, Charles."

The single part that he most looked forward to in her letters was her ability to make him smile. She could describe incidents that occurred around the house so well that he could easily picture them in his mind. She told of a rather interesting war that seemed to be going on between Mrs. Patmore and Pharaoh that had actually made him laugh out loud. Now, though she had induced him to read a novel by Jane Austen. He had always avoided these, because in his mind they were silly bits of romance. _**Persuasion**_ was certainly a romantic novel, but he found that, with her commentary on his observations, it was not very silly. He had just written her about the chapter in which Anne, her family, and Fredrick walk to visit the Hayters. Elsie's comments on his observations were sure to be both funny and flirtatious. He was sure that she had a motive other than improving his education in introducing him to this particular book. There were some parallels in Fredrick's and Anne's situation to his and Elsie's. Not that he was a rich naval captain or she the poorly treated daughter of minor gentry, but he felt that they were trying to find their way back to love again.

He decided that instead of tearing into the letter quickly as he longed to do, he would hold back until the morning's business was done. After supervising the serving of breakfast, he came down to find Mr. Bates leafing through the servants' mail with a hopeful expression. Smiling to himself, Charles thought that he probably should discourage this attachment, but he didn't have the heart to do so. "Mr. Bates, might I see you for just a moment?"

Mr. Bates looked up sharply with a puzzled expression and followed Charles to his pantry. Charles pulled the letter out of his pocket and handed it to him, "You had a letter today from Downton. I thought it might be best if some of the others didn't see the return address."

Mr. Bates gave him a small almost smile which Charles knew was the same as positively grinning for anyone else. "Certainly, sir, thank you." Taking the letter, he moved off quickly to find a little privacy. Charles sat down at his desk to work through the bills and check invoices before he allowed himself the delight of reading Elsie's letter. Occasionally, he would touch the pocket that held the letter to remind himself of its presence. He worked a little quicker knowing that he would be able to read her letter soon.

He was interrupted in these pleasant thoughts by Mr. Bates rushing back into his pantry. "Sir, I believe that you may have given me the wrong letter. I'm sorry sir. I didn't bother to look at the direction before I opened it."

Charles pulled the letter from his own pocket and looking at it, realized that he'd given Elsie's to Mr. Bates. Mr. Bates was looking at him a little abashed and holding Elsie's letter out to him. Was that the slightest of blushes on Mr. Bates' face? Hopefully, Elsie would not have chosen this time to be indiscreet. Perhaps he was just worried that Mr. Carson had read his letter. "I hadn't even opened your letter yet, Mr. Bates. I was waiting until I got a few bills done. I'm sorry. I should have paid a little closer attention to which I was giving you."

Seeing Mr. Bates relax a little, Charles took Elsie's letter and gave Mr. Bates his. He cleared his throat, "I trust I can rely on your discretion in this as always Mr. Bates?"

"Of course, sir."

Charles felt sure that he could rely on him. Mr. Bates was the only man he'd ever met who was more reticent than himself.

When Mr. Bates had again left in search of a little privacy, Charles decided that since the letter was already open, he might as well read it. Besides, he was curious to see if there was anything in it that might have contributed to Mr. Bates' embarrassment.

It was dated June 13, two days before he'd sent his letter to her which was a little odd. It was only one page which was also strange.

_Dearest Charles,_

_I miss you and I love you. There it is in my own handwriting. If Miss O'Brien or Thomas ever gets their hands on this letter, I have just made them very happy. Please forgive the melancholy tone of this letter. I feel particularly down at just this time. I suppose it is because we are almost exactly at the mid-point of the season. It is nearly as long before you return as it has been since you left. I find that I am coming to hate the London season just a little._

_I miss your physical presence very much. Your letters are excellent, and I can almost hear you speaking as I read them. Almost, but not quite. Your letters do not feel like you. They do not smell like you, and they do not have your great rumbling voice. While I have enjoyed your observations of the London season and funny anecdotes, it is still not quite like having you here so that I can hear the smile in your voice or see your expression. _

_I hope that this letter has not made you melancholy as well. It was not my intention to do so. I simply felt that at least once, I should write these sentiments to you. I will write a more cheerful letter as soon as I am able. _

_Forgive my indiscretion; feel free to tear this letter into tiny bits to prevent its discovery. Again, as ever I am…_

_Your housekeeper,_

_Elsie_

After he'd read the letter through for the fourth time, he folded it and placed it in his wallet. Risk of discovery or not, he could never destroy this letter. He would really rather Mr. Bates had not seen this particular letter but trusted his discretion. He also felt that the pleasure of receiving such a letter was worth any risk. Pulling a piece of paper toward him and picking up his pen, he wrote his own letter to send out by the next post.

Elsie found herself looking for the post each day with a little bit of trepidation. It was six days since she'd sent that silly letter. What had she been thinking? She supposed the problem was that she hadn't been. That particular day was always a depressing one for her. While her renewed relationship with Charles had made her very happy, it had also added a different dimension to her depression this year. She meant every word she'd written in the letter, but she felt very silly for writing them down. If she was very lucky, perhaps the letter had been lost.

Flipping quickly through the post when it came, she saw the letter she'd been looking for, addressed in neat but cramped writing from Grantham Hall. She sorted the rest of the mail quickly and sat down at Charles' desk to read his letter dated June 16

_My dear Elsie,_

_I have received your letter of June 13, and I would like to echo your sentiments. I love you and I miss you. There you have it in black and white. Feel free to use it to blackmail me to your heart's content. Your letters have been wonderful, but they are not you. They do not have your eyes, your smile, or your voice. _

_I find that I am coming to hate the London season quite a lot. My only consolation is that each day brings me closer to returning to Downton and you. I look forward to deepening our relationship upon my return. _

_I am sorry that you were feeling melancholy, and I hope this letter helps to cheer you. Do not worry that your letter made me melancholy as well. Far from it, I was very happy to receive my first true love letter._

_If you would like to destroy this letter to prevent its discovery, feel free to do so. Please trust that I will never do so to yours._

_As ever, I am…_

_Your butler_

_Charles_

Elsie's nervousness eased as she read the letter again. She no longer felt that her letter was silly and was glad that she had made Charles happy. Folding her first love letter gently, she tucked it into her dress.

**Author's note: There is a little reference to The Shippy Queen's "The Waiting Game" here and I hope she doesn't mind. If you haven't read it, you should. Also, in case you haven't already guessed, June 13 is the date of Elsie's miscarriage. I have about five more chapters planned for this fic. Hopefully, at least some of you will stick with me to the end. **

**Thank you for your reviews. I am beginning to become somewhat addicted to them.**


	25. Chapter 25

**More fluff of the orange flavored kind. A little bit of seriousness at the end but not too angsty I hope. **

Charles did not write Elsie of his early return for the simple reason that he was not sure that he was going to be able to accomplish it until the day before he boarded the train. He took the earliest train possible back to Downton; almost the earliest train, he was not quite up to the milk train. Once he got off the train, he made arrangements for the trunks and packages to be transported to the Abbey. Walking through the village, he was trying to decide whether to ride back to Downton with the luggage or to walk. Then, his heart skipped a beat as he saw Elsie enter the green grocer's. He would definitely walk.

Elsie was quite put out when she walked into the green grocer. Mrs. Patmore had informed her yesterday evening that she intended to make a lemon curd for the garden party. Elsie knew that she would have to order more lemons if they were to have lemonade as well, necessitating this trip to the grocer. She knew that every day that she delayed in ordering them would increase the price necessary to ensure their delivery on time. Mrs. Patmore had taken the opportunity to remind her that if she had a key to the store closet she would have been able to see the lack sooner. That remark had gotten on Elsie's already very frayed nerves, and she'd been tempted to box her ears.

Sighing to herself, she knew that the reason for her nerviness was Charles or more specifically the lack of Charles. She was quite ready for the season to be over, but on the other hand was a little nervous of seeing him again. While they'd never been as unguarded in their letters as the two from mid-June, they had certainly grown much warmer. She knew that his comments on _**Persuasion**_ had been references to their own situation, and they warmed her heart. He'd written that he thought Fredrick was quite silly to not come back to Anne as soon as he was able, but also very wise in his decision that they should not accuse each other with the past. Elsie smiled as she knew that his sentiments that to dwell on an unpleasant past meant one could never move forward to a pleasant future were meant for themselves as well. She dwelt on these thoughts as she waited on the green grocer so that she could place her order. Looking around, she decided to treat herself to an orange which she would eat on the way back to Downton. She was looking through the oranges trying to find the best specimen when the door opened.

Charles stepped into the shop, blinking his eyes a little to adjust to the darkness after the bright sunshine. He looked around and saw Elsie with an orange in her hand looking at him in astonishment. Stepping over to her, he said, "Good morning Mrs. Hughes, I trust that you are well?"

"Good morning Mr. Carson. Forgive me; we didn't expect you until tomorrow."

"Yes, well, I came up a day early to get things settled before the family returned. What brings you to the village this morning?"

"Lemons"

"Beg pardon?"

"Mrs. Patmore decided to make a lemon curd for the party. I needed to order more lemons for lemonade, thus I am here," she explained with an inclination of her head.

"You do realize lemons are yellow, don't you? I believe that is an orange you are holding," he said, slightly amused.

Giving him her best exasperated look, she said, "I know what color lemons are, Mr. Carson. I thought that I would buy an orange for myself as a treat for my walk back."

"Ahh; that makes perfect sense. Would you allow me to share your walk and your treat with you?" he asked as he took the orange from her, fingers brushing hers.

Elsie looked down at their hands for just a moment, "Certainly. Just let me place my order."

Charles paid for the orange, and then stepped outside while he waited for Elsie to finish.

Presenting her with half of a peeled orange when she stepped outside, he indicated a narrower more private path that would lead them back to the estate a little less directly than the road. She nodded and started down the path, breaking off a section of orange to eat. When they had gone far enough to expect a little privacy, he broke the silence, "I've missed you."

Smiling around a bite of orange she nodded while she chewed and swallowed, "Yes, I know. I've missed you as well."

After a few more steps and another bite of orange he said, "Thank you for your letters and especially for _that_ letter. They made things bearable."

"Thank you for your letter as well. I still have it."

"Do you? I still have yours here," he said touching his jacket.

"I'm glad," she said looking into his eyes for a moment before she dropped her eyes to about his third button.

Deciding he'd had quite enough orange, he tossed the remaining few sections to the side and grasped her shoulders pulling her to him for a kiss. She tasted like oranges and Elsie. After several moments he drew back and said, "Hello, Elsie."

"Hello, Charles," she whispered as she laid her cheek against his chest, she'd dropped her orange as well, but clung to his lapels with sticky hands, "I'm getting orange juice on your jacket."

"I'm a very messy eater," he said bending to kiss her again.

When he broke the kiss, she said smiling, "Which, of course, will explain why I have orange juice all over my bottom."

Pulling back to turn her around slightly, he said, "It's not very noticeable, and hopefully not too many people will be watching your bottom."

"Except you, of course," she said smiling.

"Except me," he agreed with a grin, pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket, he handed it to her to wipe her hands and then wiped his own.

"Shall we continue, Elsie?" he asked holding out his arm to her.

"I believe we should," she said as she took his arm, and they started back toward Downton.

Over the next several weeks, they did not immediately fall back into their old intimacy. Actually, after this delightful greeting Elsie began to be a little frustrated by Charles' lack of physical contact. He hugged her to him occasionally, but released her before she could lean into him too much. Placing his hand on her lower back he would guide her down corridors, but that hand never strayed lower. He gave her gentle kisses that lingered on her forehead before they both made their way to bed, but never on her lips. Elsie found herself aching, wanting more.

One night, battling insomnia, they went to the kitchen to make cocoa instead of their usual tea. The rest of the staff had gone up long before, and the kitchen was dark except for the lamp they'd brought with them and the light of the burner. She stood at the stove, stirring the milk as he brought her cocoa from the pantry along with a couple of mugs. Setting the mugs on the counter, he didn't move away as he had before but watched as she concentrated on warming the milk and cocoa. When she'd filled the mugs, he took the saucepan and placed it in the sink. Turning back to her, he placed his hands on the counter on either side of her hips and leaned down to kiss her. He'd been actively avoiding kissing her because he wasn't sure where it would lead but couldn't resist this intimate domesticity. When he gave into the temptation, he promised himself just a gentle kiss. All thoughts of gentleness were abandoned when his lips touched hers. Heat flared up between them, and he was pressing her against the counter as he deepened the kiss. He pulled back after several blissful moments to catch his breath and was satisfied to hear her short, quick breaths as well.

"Elsie, I'm.." he began.

"Charles Carson, if you tell me you're sorry for kissing me, you'll find out what Scottish temper is all about."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered leaving his hands on the counter beside her hips and laying his cheek on her hair.

"Charles, this is lovely but perhaps just a bit exposed?"

Her comment brought him quickly back to earth as he realized that he was standing in the kitchen, in full view of the hall, in the dark, with the housekeeper pinned firmly against the counter. He leaned back slowly and dropped his hands to his sides. Taking the mugs of now cool cocoa in his hands, he said, "Yes, of course, perhaps we should go to your parlor."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," she smiled.

Once they were back in her parlor, they both suddenly seemed to have everything and nothing to say, so they sipped their cocoa. After several long moments, Elsie began, "Charles, why have you been so reticent, physically that is? I thought that perhaps you didn't desire me anymore, but that, tonight, made me believe you still do."

He barked a laugh, "Yes, Elsie, I still desire you. I never stopped desiring you. I've been so reticent, as you put it, because I can't do this."

Realization dawned on her face, "Oh, Charles, I didn't know. It's alright, we don't have to…"

His pride offended, he interrupted, "No, I don't mean I'm not _capable_. Although I haven't attempted to be with anyone for over five years, I'm still sure that I could. I just mean I can't because I'm afraid of being hurt again, I suppose. I just, I -I need more time. I need time to think about you, us. When we're together physically, thinking sort of gets put on hold."

"Well, that's good;" she said thoughtfully and then added at his questioning look, "That you still could even if you won't. Thinking is sometimes over-rated, though, Charles."

"Perhaps," he agreed, "It may take me longer to come to a decision than you, but once I've made it I'll never back down."

"Charles, I—"

"Elsie, I didn't mean to imply anything about you," he said soothingly, "You're just able to think quicker than me. I know that you are not fickle."

After a long pause, he added, "I have also reflected many times over our last argument. I thought that perhaps, and this was most certainly not the case, that I might have given you the impression that the physical side was the most important part of our relationship. I wanted you to be sure this time that that was not the case."

"Oh, Charles, I never thought that," she said softly.

After a few moments of trying to resist asking the question on her mind, Elsie asked, "Charles, did you-, was there-, were you with anyone else, after?"

Charles paused, staring into his mug as he tried to decide whether and how to answer, he sighed and said, "That first summer, after we-, after our separation, while I was in London, one evening I felt that I needed release. I went out determined to find it. I found a 'woman'," his tone left no doubt what type of woman she was, "She looked a little like you, in the dark, with three drinks in me and if I squinted hard. I followed her to a room and—nothing happened. She might have looked like you, but she didn't sound like you or smell like you or feel like you. She was not you. I realized that I didn't need release. I needed you. I never attempted anything again."

"Thank you," she said, "for telling me."

"I can't very well ask absolute honesty from you if I'm not willing to give it, can I?" he replied with a rueful smile.

After a few more moments, he cleared his throat and asked softly, "Were you, with anyone, that is?"

Looking at him intently, she said, "No, Charles, no one else could ever compare to you."

His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled at her, "Thank you."


	26. Chapter 26

**This chapter is not to be taken too seriously. There is M-ness amongst mature people. If you don't like that skip ahead. **

Understanding why Charles was holding back did not necessarily make it any easier for her to accept. While she very much wanted to seduce Charles, she didn't have any experience in seducing men, except him, and he'd never really required much seducing before. It was always really more of letting him know she was interested if he was interested, and he seemed to always be interested. She reflected back over their time together and started to develop a devilish plan. She put her plan into motion shortly after their late night discussion over cocoa.

When he helped her to stand, she would hold his hand just a little longer than necessary, sometimes stroking her fingers over his palm. She would brush past him in hallways at times, leaning just a little closer to him than necessary. When he was alone, she would walk away from him with a little extra bounce in her step. While he was fairly oblivious most of the time, this last did not go unnoticed. On one of those occasions when she was walking away from him, he called out to her, "Mrs. Hughes, may I speak to you in my pantry, please?"

Turning back to him with a smile, she said, "Certainly, Mr. Carson."

She walked into his pantry, standing by the door as she waited for him to shut it.

He leaned over her with one hand on the wall beside her head, "You realize that you are making this very difficult for me, don't you?"

Her breath caught at his closeness and the fierce look in his eyes, "How so?"

"You're _wiggling_!" he whispered tersely.

"I wasn't aware that I was _wiggling_. I thought I was walking, which is pretty much the only way I know to get from one place to another."

"Parts of you are wiggling when you walk," he said clearly annoyed now.

"If it bothers you so much, perhaps you shouldn't watch those parts," she challenged.

He gave her an exasperated look, "It is difficult not to watch those parts when you are making them so watchable."

Pushing herself off the wall, she said, "Charles, dear man, I have no desire to make this easy for you."

With that comment she left the room.

A few weeks later the family went to a house party at another estate in search of a husband for Lady Mary. They, of course, took Mr. Bates, Miss O'Brien, and Anna this time with them. Elsie urged Mrs. Patmore to visit her niece since the family would be gone for a full five days. Thomas asked for leave presumably to visit family, but Charles was not really sure. Elsie took stock of the situation and realized that the three biggest snoops were gone. She decided to put the rest of her plan into motion. She did her preparations and went in search of her butler.

He was sitting in his pantry trying to decide exactly what to do. He very much wanted to go to Elsie but was afraid that with this near desertion of the house, he would not be able to resist temptation. He was beginning to wonder just why he needed to. The knock on his door interrupted his reverie. When he opened the door, he found the source of his distress standing there looking just a little different.

"Charles, I can't find any of the male staff, and I find that I need something from the attic. Would you be a dear and help me?"

"Of course I will," he answered and turned to put his coat back on. "_What was it that was different about her?" _he wondered.

He followed her down the corridor and up the back stairs. As he started up the stairs, he groaned as he realized his mistake. He closed his eyes for a moment and berated himself for letting her go up first.

She turned back to look at him, wide-eyed, "Charles?"

"I'm fine, just—old knees, you know," and motioned for her to go on.

When they reached the attic stairs, he was quite proud of himself for going up quickly before her until he turned to help her up the last few steep steps. _"What is it that is different about her?" _he wondered as he noticed that parts of her were more _mobile_. He groaned again and realized that this all seemed somewhat contrived.

"Elsie, just what was it that you needed so urgently from the attic?"

"You," she whispered standing on tiptoe to reach him for a kiss.

He gave in, clutching her to him as he deepened the kiss. His hands smoothed down her back to cup the bottom she'd presented to him on the stairs. Deciding to repay her kindness, he trailed kisses along her jaw to the spot behind her left ear that he remembered well. He had the pleasure of hearing her gasp as she clutched at his jacket lapels. He whispered against the soft, moist skin behind her ear, "Do you really want me so much?"

"Yes, yes, Charles, I do."

"Then, how could I resist anymore?" he smiled and moved his lips back to hers for a moment before pulling back to say, "I would like to point out that it is quite a ways back to your parlor to complete this seduction."

"Actually, I've prepared for this a little," she replied, blushing and not quite able to meet his eyes.

She led him to a nook hidden from the doorway by some trunks and an old wardrobe. He saw a mattress with fresh sheets and a blanket, and a bottle of wine with two glasses sitting beside.

Raising his eyebrows, he turned to her, "Rather sure of yourself, weren't you?"

"Well, I supposed if you bolted, I could just drown my sorrows," she replied wryly.

"There'll be no need of that," he said softly and drew her to him for another kiss.

At this point, her seduction of him ended and his seduction of her began. He began to trail kisses along her jaw and down her neck to the top of her dress. He undid her buttons kissing his way down her neck and chest. His hands caressed their way up and down her back from the sides of her breasts to her bottom. Kissing his way down to the valley between her breasts, he unbuttoned her dress further. It was then that he realized what was different, grunting in surprise, "You're not wearing your corset!"

"Yes, well, I rather hoped this might work," she replied, turning just a little more crimson.

He nodded in appreciation, "It does make things easier."

"Charles!"

He decided to forgo reminding her that she was the one who began all this in favor of turning his attention back to her dress, specifically getting her out of it. Once her dress was draped over an old armchair, they both began to work on his clothing with eagerness. As he took off his jacket, she worked at the buttons on his waistcoat. Once those were safely draped over her dress, he undid his tie while she fumbled at the buttons on his shirt. Her clumsy fingers could be attributed to the kisses he was placing behind her ear.

"Charles, you're making this rather difficult."

"Says you, I think I'm making it rather fun."

"That too," she sighed.

Finished with his tie, he helped her with the rest of the buttons on his shirt, freeing her hands to work at the top of his trousers. Once he stopped distracting her, she made quick work of the few remaining items of clothing, and they were soon lying nude beneath the blanket.

He lay beside her running his hand from shoulder to hip. "Elsie, I need you to let me take the lead. It's been a long time, and this will be over too quick to give you pleasure if you push me."

"Charles, do what you want to me, I trust you," she replied.

He groaned a little at this complete surrender and bent to kiss her, moving his hand to cup her. He slipped first one and then two fingers inside her folds to stroke her to the edge of release. He felt her thighs begin to tremble and raised himself over her to push into her warm, wet folds. He felt the rhythmic waves of her release as his own came. He collapsed beside her and then grimaced crying out in pain.

Alarmed, Elsie sat up, "Charles! What is it? Are you alright?"

Grimacing, he said, "No, I've got a cramp! In my leg!"

Relieved, she said, "Thank goodness! I thought you might be having a heart attack."

"Serve you right if I had," he said still grimacing, "making me climb up all those stairs and then jumping on me as soon as we reached the top."

"All I did was kiss you. You pretty much took over from there," she said a little amused now.

"Exactly," he pointed out, "which is probably why I have an almighty cramp in my leg now."

"Do you want me to rub it for you?"

Opening his eyes wide to look at her, he said, "Elsie, I don't think I'm ready for another go just yet. Let me get the cramp worked out of my leg at least."

Smacking his arm lightly, she laughed, "I meant your leg, you big oaf."

"Oh, no, I think it'll be alright in a minute. I'm just not used to such exuberant activities."

"Well, you're still quite capable, dear man," she said still clearly amused, "We'll have to get you used to those activities again."

Smiling, he drew her to him, "Good."

He stirred himself enough to pour them both a glass of wine and sat on the mattress with his back against the wall and Elsie pressed against his chest to drink it. He supposed that they really should be getting dressed and back downstairs before they were caught out. He was having a little difficulty finding the energy to care, however.

After they finished their second glass of wine, Elsie voiced this same thought, "I suppose we really should get dressed and back downstairs before anyone notices," although she continued to lie against his chest.

"That would probably be a good idea," he agreed while he continued to stroke the underside of her breast.

"Charles, I'm serious," she said and this time began to struggle to rise. He placed a hand on her bottom and boosted her up. "Charles!" she said and turned to look at him.

"I was just trying to give you a helping hand," he said innocently.

"Next time help yourself."

"I rather thought I was," he smirked.

"You are a very wicked man. I don't know why I put up with you," she said smiling to take the bite out of her words as she struggled into her dress.

"Because I know how to make you purr," he said as he rose to get dressed as well.

"Dreadful man," she laughed.

Looking at her seriously before they went down the steps, he said, "Thank you for seducing me, Elsie. You're right; thinking is sometimes highly over-rated."


	27. Chapter 27

The rest of that autumn and winter, they continued to deepen their relationship. While they both enjoyed the physical intimacy of their relationship, that intimacy as often took the form of simply holding each other or sleeping together as making love. Charles now spent essentially every evening in Elsie's parlor often sitting closely on the sofa reading together or with Elsie working on some project or another.

On one of these nights, he was sitting with his back against the arm of the sofa, with Elsie snuggled closely between his legs back against his chest doing her mending while he read a book.

"What are you worried about Charles?"

"What makes you think I'm worried?"

"You've not turned the page in over a quarter of an hour. You've either gone to sleep or you're worried. I didn't hear snoring, so I assumed you're worried," she said with a smile in her voice.

Offended, he said, "I don't snore."

"You're asleep. You don't know. Trust me; you snore, but not too loudly."

"Well, you don't have to sleep beside me any more if it bothers you that bad."

"It doesn't bother me that bad. I'd rather lie awake listening to you snore than sleep alone, besides I'm getting rather used to it now. I have trouble sleeping when I'm alone. It's too quiet."

He smiled, wrapping his arm around her waist and dipping his head to kiss her neck. She sighed, tilting her head to give him better access.

Resting his chin on her shoulder, he said, "It's the situation with Mr. Bates."

"Hmmm?" she asked, having forgotten her earlier question.

"I know he's not a thief," he stated flatly, "it's just not believable. Now if somebody told me he murdered Thomas in his sleep; that I could believe."

"Why have you allowed Thomas to become such a bother?" she asked having been curious for awhile.

He sighed, "I felt sorry for him when he first came. He was hungry and out of work. I remembered what it was like to be starving without any prospect of a job. Of course now I now he's enough of a vulture to eat carrion," he finished with a grimace.

"That doesn't explain why you've let him remain."

"Well, now he's embedded in the household. It's much harder to get rid of someone than it is to avoid hiring them in the first place."

"I still would like to see you toss him out on his ear."

He smiled at her sentiment then continued seriously, "The only problem is Daisy. I'm sure she's lying. She's a terrible liar but getting her to admit it is going to be the hard thing. I apparently frighten her out of her wits."

Elsie smiled then, "You've spent a lot of time trying to be scary. Don't be upset now that it's working so well. Daisy's just a silly girl infatuated with a pretty face."

"Completely unlike you," he nudged her shoulder.

"Of course she is; I'm in love with you, not some pretty face."

Laughing now, "Thank you for the compliment."

"Vain man! Charles, you're a good, honest, honorable man with a sense of humor, lovely smile, and deep rumbling voice. Plus, you know how to make me happy. Much better than a pretty face."

Setting his book on the floor now and reaching for her mending to put it down as well, he turned her in his arms.

"I make you happy?"

"Very!"

Pulling her to him, he kissed her and then scooted down the sofa to lie beside her. Coaxing her to lay her head on his shoulder, he put his arm around her and stroked her back gently while he continued to think.

"You just think Daisy's silly because she doesn't like your William."

"He's a good lad, and she is silly to prefer Thomas to him. I suppose I like him so much because he reminds me a bit of you."

"That silly boy!"

"He's honest, forthright, and a hard-worker. If you'd had a son, I would expect him to be like him."

"Humph! If I'd had a son, he wouldn't be that silly. You'd have seen to that."

Elsie grew very still. "I would have?"

"Well, Elsie, any son of mine would have been a son of yours as well. I couldn't imagine having children with anyone else."

Tightening her arm around him, she pressed her forehead into his chest. He heard her breath hitch just a little.

"Elsie? I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to make you sad."

"No, Charles, it's alright. That was a wonderful thing to say," she said looking up at him smiling now, "sleep with me tonight."

"You can put up with the snoring?"

"Of course, although it's probably best to sleep down here so you don't wake up the neighbors."

Having done this many times before, they both rose to make themselves more comfortable. As she went over to a cabinet to retrieve a couple of blankets, he put another lump of coal on the fire. Walking over to a low table, he looked at the familiar pictures there. "Elsie, I've not seen this one before. Who are these children?"

"My sister just sent that to me. She's moving in with her daughter and needed to get rid of some things. The older girl is my sister. The little girl is me"

"And the boy was your brother I suppose? You were a pretty child."

She moved over to stand beside him, "Thank you. Yes; that was just a few months before he died."

"I'm sorry. I know that was hard on you," he said as he put his arm around her to draw her to him.

Wrapping her arms around his waist she said, "Harder on my mother. She had had two miscarriages between me and my sister and another after my brother."

"Mmm. Hard on your father, too, I imagine."

Elsie snorted, "I don't know about that."

"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked, then seeing her downcast eyes and expression, "or not. I seem to be poking my finger in sore spots this evening. I'm sorry."

Elsie tightened her arms around him, "Charles, don't apologize for being yourself. You have no way of knowing about this. I'd like to tell you, but could we lie down first and blow out the light?"

They both undressed then, to undershorts for him and shift for her. She blew out the lamp, and they arranged themselves on the sofa. Lying down on his side with his back against the back of the sofa, he wrapped his arms and legs around her. They lay there quietly enough and long enough that he thought she'd gone to sleep.

She broke the silence in a very soft voice, "I was eight when my brother died, so I didn't really understand what was happening at the time. I just knew they were fighting a lot. Then one night my father stormed out after saying something very crude to my mother that I now understand to mean that one woman is just as good as another for-for sex, I assume. They didn't fight after that, but they weren't very happy either."

Charles grunted in surprised anger, "I'm sorry Elsie, but your father was a right bastard to say that."

She turned in his arms to face him. Kissing him softly, "I know, but thank you for saying it all the same. That's why it meant so much to me when you told me, well, that you don't feel that way."

"Of course not Elsie," he said, "I could never feel for another woman what I feel for you."

Kissing him again, Elsie smiled against his lips, "And you wonder why I say that you're much better than a pretty face."

Kissing her then, he asked, "Even with the snoring?"

She nodded and said, "Go to sleep, and I'll listen to you snore."

Their evenings and nights continued this way throughout the rest of the winter and into the spring. While they certainly couldn't sleep together every night, they found that they needed each other's presence more and more. Their nights together were bittersweet. They were much more rested after sleeping together, but they dreaded the early morning departures to their respective rooms to get dressed. Separating from each other became much more difficult, especially as the London season drew nearer.

Charles found that this year he dreaded the coming of the London season. He would certainly miss Elsie, but he also found this time to be too reminiscent of their previous separation six years before. The last time that he'd felt this happy with his life was before he went to London in 1908. Something had happened to shatter their relationship that summer, and a small part of him couldn't help fearing that it would happen again. In some ways, he felt that he loved Elsie even more now than he had then. His fears were worsened by the fact that Elsie could not really do anything to alleviate them.

One night lying together in his room, Elsie tried to console him, "You'll only be gone eight weeks this year."

"Eight and a half weeks," he corrected.

She sighed, "Charles, dear man, is there nothing I can say to make you feel better?"

"Not really," he replied, "You could write to me, though. I love your letters."

"I will," she promised, "but I'll try not to be quite so unguarded this year."

"I wouldn't mind. That was the best letter I've ever received," he smiled.

"You still have it?" she asked.

"Of course, I like to pull it out and read it sometimes."

"Could I see it?"

In answer, he rose and retrieved the letter from his wallet. She noticed that it did look as though it had been read many times, creases worn. Opening it, she remembered her feelings from almost a year ago that had caused her to write it. Charles watched as she ran her finger over the date and the first line. She looked up at him and smiled, "I wrote and sent this almost without thinking, but I am glad that I did. You deserve to have these words 'in black and white' as you put it."

Looking at her with love filled eyes, he bent to kiss her gently, then not so gently as he pushed her down on the bed. He plucked the letter from her hand and placed it on his bedside table. Then, turning back to her, his hand lifted to caress her breast through her nightdress while he resumed his kisses. As he moved from her lips to her neck, she felt his arousal pressed against her thigh. "Charles," she whispered, a little breathless, "if I'd thought you'd want this again tonight, I wouldn't have put my nightdress back on."

Smiling against her neck, he said, "If I'd thought I'd want it again, I wouldn't have let you. It's as easy to take off as put on, though."

"Let me get up, and I'll get it off," she said smiling.

He shook his head as he began to work on the buttons, "No, I'll take care of it."

"You know if you just toss it on the floor, it'll distract me," she warned.

Grinning, he asked, "Will it be as distracting as this?" and moved his lips to the spot behind her ear.

"Possibly," she sighed closing her eyes.

"Or this?" he moved down to mouth her nipple through her nightdress.

"Probably not," she admitted as she clutched the back of his head.

Rolling so that he was under her, he grasped the bottom of her nightdress and pulled it over her head, dropping it on the floor.

She leaned forward to kiss him and her breasts pressed against his bare chest. Then grasping his waistband, she tugged gently. He lifted his hips from the bed to help her get his pyjama trousers off, which she tossed on the floor as well. "There's something to distract you now," she said as she kissed the underside of his chin.

Rolling again so that she was underneath him, he worked his mouth down to her breasts and began to tease them with his tongue. "Shh. I'm trying to concentrate."

She laughed and he nudged her legs apart with his knee. Pushing into her gently, he began the long, slow strokes that gradually increased in tempo. She clutched his shoulders and lifted her head to kiss him as she felt the waves of pleasure building from her center. When he saw the flush beginning on her chest, he kissed her to muffle her cries and his own. Dropping beside her, he lay sated with his arm draped heavily over her breasts. She started to struggle to rise, and he asked, "Where are you going? It's not time for you to leave yet."

"Charles, there's no way I can sleep with my nightdress on the floor."

"Ok, pick it up but don't put it on just yet."

"Surely you won't want more," she said with a smile.

"Probably not," he agreed, "I just like to hold you like this," letting her rise, "Pick my pyjamas up too."

She sniffed, "I should make you do it yourself. Serve you right for trying to distract me."

Picking up both articles of clothing, she folded them and laid them over the bottom of the bed before slipping back under the covers to curl herself around him.

He pulled her tight against his side and said, "Meet me again this year."

"Where?"

"The same inn; it's still open. I've checked."

"Tell me when, and I'll ask for the days off to visit my sister. Now, quit talking so I can sleep."

"Yes, ma'am," he said as he kissed her forehead.

"Do you feel a little better now?"

"A little but it's still going to be a long two months," he said with a sigh.


	28. Chapter 28

**Fluffy, gratuitous sex for the next couple of chapters. Not quite as much as their 'honeymoon'. They are a tad bit older after all. **

While time did seem to drag for them both, July finally arrived. Charles found himself once again on a train platform waiting for Elsie. He read a paper while waiting for her, telling of the tense relations on the continent. It seemed that war was likely coming. He worried a little for the young men of the household, William in particular. With his mother dead and Daisy acting so foolishly, he would have nothing to keep him from going to war. He was so engrossed with his thoughts and the paper, that he almost didn't notice her train arriving. He looked up as the bustle around him increased and saw her step off the train. Seven years seemed to drop away as he strode across the station to her. She saw him this time and stood quietly as he approached. He grasped her shoulders gently and looked into her eyes. She smiled up at him, and he sighed in relief at the love he saw shining there.

"Hello Elsie."

"Hello Charles"

Taking her valise from her, he guided her through the crowd acting as a buffer between her and the bustle.

They took a cab to the same inn. As the cabbie pulled the car to the curb, he turned to them with a smile, "Celebrating?"

"Yes," Charles replied, "It's our anniversary."

"That's grand; best of wishes to you both."

They stood for a moment outside the inn. "Thank you for meeting me, Elsie."

"Charles, did you really think I'd do anything else?"

"Not in my saner moments," he said, "but eight and a half weeks is a long time."

"Fifty-nine days," she agreed, smiling.

"But we're together now," he pointed out, "Come, let's enjoy our second honeymoon."

Entering the inn, they resolved to do just that.

When Charles approached the desk to ask for their room, he recognized the same innkeeper. The innkeeper apparently recognized him as well. "Have you stayed with us before, sir? You look familiar."

"Yes, we spent our honeymoon here seven years ago."

"Oh yes, I remember you. You'll be wanting sandwiches later and tea in the morning, I suppose?"

Smiling, Charles said, "That would be grand, yes."

"You still seem to make her happy sir, if you don't mind me saying, and she you."

"Yes, she does make me very happy."

As they entered their room, she asked, "Is it the same?"

"It has been a while," he answered, "but I believe it is. That certainly looks like the same uncomfortable chair."

He turned around to lock the door while she took her hat off to place in the wardrobe. When he turned back to her, he smiled, "Do you know what I thought was the most intimate thing about our last stay?"

Raising her eyebrows at him, she said, "That would be a little difficult to guess."

"It was our clothes hanging together in that wardrobe. It looked like they belonged together."

Walking toward him and wrapping her arms around him, she said, "Maybe we should hang them there again."

Bending to kiss her, "Yes, I think we should."

"I would like to wash up a little."

"Before we go to bed?" he asked with a hopeful expression.

"Of course."

Returning to the room first, he reflected that some things would never change. It would never take him as long as Elsie to get ready. This time though, instead of standing uncomfortably wondering what to do, he stretched out on the bed with his arms crossed behind his head waiting for his Elsie. When he heard the click of the lock, he opened his eyes to watch her cross the room to the wardrobe and hang her dress beside his suit. As she walked over to him he sat on the edge of the bed. She walked into his waiting arms and was a little disconcerted to find that he was as tall sitting as she was standing. He ran his hands down her back to cup her bottom while she took advantage of being at eye level to lean toward him for a kiss. She pulled back and pressed her forehead to his.

She sighed, "Fifty-nine days is a long time."

"Fifty-eight nights is a long time as well," he agreed with a rueful smile.

"The London housekeeper is still very unattractive, isn't she?"

"Very unattractive. Still flat-chested too," he said as he raised his hand to cup her breast.

"Good," she sighed as she leaned into his touch.

He caressed her breast through her nightdress, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her nipple. She stood with eyes closed enjoying his touch. He watched her face, mesmerized by the pleasure he saw there. He moved his hand from her breast to the neck of her nightdress. She opened her eyes at the loss of his touch, but closed them again as he kissed her neck. He unbuttoned her nightdress while he kissed the side of her neck. Slipping his hand inside, he cupped her breast in his hand and circled her nipple with the pad of his thumb. She gasped a little at his touch and opened her eyes. Turning her mouth toward his, she captured his lips for a kiss. She lifted her own hands to the buttons of his pyjamas and began to work them loose. She smoothed her hands across his chest and grazed her fingertips across his nipples. He murmured his pleasure against her ear and pulled her closer with his hand on her lower back. He pushed her neckline lower and pulled her nipple into his mouth. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and then brought her hands up to grasp his shoulders. Placing one hand on her upper back and the other at the curve of her lower spine, he held her to him so that he could continue to work his mouth and tongue over her nipple.

After a few moments she sighed and said, "Charles, could I-, could we-? I'm feeling a little weak," she finished not knowing exactly what to ask.

Raising his head he looked at her for a moment, he liked this position and didn't want to change just yet. Reaching down to lift the hem of her nightdress, he placed his hands on her thighs and encouraged her to straddle him, sitting in his lap. "Better?" he asked.

"Better," she nodded as he bent his head to suckle her nipple again.

They sat like that for a long while with his hands encircling her waist, fingers splayed over her bottom. His tongue and mouth worked at first one nipple then the other. She ran her hands over his back while she kissed the angle between his neck and shoulder. She started to bring her hips closer to his and his hands tightened on her waist. His fingers grasped the edge of her night dress and pulled it over her head. He turned then to let her lie back on the bed while he stood to slip his pyjama trousers off. She spread her arms and legs to welcome him as he lay over her and pushed into her gently. She grasped his shoulders as he moved within her, pulling him closer to her as she lifted her head to kiss him. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and without thinking began to move it in time with the rhythm that he set. He felt her start to tighten around him, and his thrusts became quicker and shorter as he neared his release. She tightened her arms around his shoulders as she found her own release and felt him stiffen against her as she heard his cry. Her own moan came from deep in her throat, and he was gratified to hear it.

He lay beside her and pulled her head to his shoulder. He smiled at the feeling of her purring against his chest. "Good?" he asked through a yawn.

"Very good! I don't bore you do I?"

"No; woman, you exhaust me."

She hummed in agreement and fell asleep.

She awoke the next morning to find herself surrounded by Charles. There was really no other way to put it. His chin rested on her hair, hand cupping her cheek, his chest was pressed firmly against her back, his legs were curved around hers, and her feet rested on top of his. His other arm was draped over her ribs with his hand cupping her breast. His snores let her know that he was still asleep, but the growing hardness against her backside made her think he wouldn't be much longer. She lightly stroked his hand, so much larger than her own, as she reflected how nice it was to wake up in this way. She felt wonderfully protected and loved. So loved, in fact, that she decided to help him wake up just a little quicker by pressing herself firmly into his groin. His snores stopped with a grunt and then a hum of appreciation as his hand first gripped and then began to lightly stroke her breast. She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed his palm.

"Good morning, Charles."

"Elsie, I can't think of a better way to start the day."

"I can," she said wiggling her hips and drawing his hand back to her breast.

"Of course, I thought that was implied," he smiled into her hair as he kissed the top of her head.

His hand stroking her breast became more determined then and began to stray down her abdomen to excite her further. With gentle caresses and heated kisses, he proceeded to make her morning very much better indeed.

As they calmed, lying beside each other, Elsie asked, "Did we eat last night?

His eyes widened a little at the thought, "No, I don't believe we did. I was so exhausted I forgot to look for the sandwiches."

"Exhausted?"

"I haven't slept well these last weeks, kept missing something lying right about here," he said indicating the crook between his shoulder and chest where her head lay.

She smiled against his chest, "It's been much too quiet for me. I haven't slept very well either."

Kissing the top of her head, he said, "I suppose I should say I'm sorry, but that actually makes me rather happy."

"Do you want to go down for a larger breakfast?"

"I'd rather just have the tea and toast in our room, if you don't mind."

There was a knock at the door and Elsie raised her eyebrows, "Looks like you get your wish."

Pulling pyjama trousers and robe on quickly, he crossed to the door and once he'd tipped the serving maid, he pulled the cart into the room. Elsie turned on her side and watched as Charles made the tea. He lifted an eyebrow and asked, "Enjoying yourself?"

"Mmm, yes, and the view."

He laughed and brought the tea and toast to the bed. They munched their toast and drank their tea in silent enjoyment. After he'd taken the tray and pushed the cart back to the hall, he came back to sit on the bed with his back against the headboard. Elsie leaned against his chest as he lazily stroked the underside of her breast.

"Charles, I never knew that this could just keep getting better and better."

He grunted, "Well, thank you for the compliment, I think."

"Oh, I didn't say that very well. What I meant was that I suppose I just thought that sex was sex. With you it seems like every time we make love it gets better, and I always just thought it would be the same."

"I think I know what you mean. Elsie, I am not an expert at making love by any means, but I am becoming an expert in you."

"Yes, that is exactly what I mean! So for instance, if I touch you here, I know that that will excite you," she said as she brushed her fingers over his nipples.

"Mmm," he hummed in agreement, "and if I kiss you here," as he kissed softly behind her ear.

As they explored each other's bodies with mutual delight, they almost began to compete to see who could arouse the other more. By the end of their game, they were both very glad to have lost and won.

They dosed together after that until Charles was aroused by pangs of hunger and a growling stomach. He rose wishing he'd eaten those sandwiches last night. Elsie stirred in the bed and looked at him with sleepy eyes.

"If I'm going to have the strength to keep up with you tonight, I'm going to have to go down for some luncheon. Do you want to go with me or would you rather I bring something up?"

"I'll go with you. I just need to wash up a bit."

They both gathered their things and moved off to the washroom. When she returned to the room, Charles was buttoning his waistcoat with his tie still hanging loose. She came to the wardrobe and began to get dressed herself. She had pulled on her undergarments and was starting to put on her corset, when Charles asked, "Do you need any help with that?" She smiled and turned to allow him to do up the fastenings. He placed a kiss on her shoulder blade and then another.

"Charles, I thought you were hungry," she said with a touch of exasperation.

"I was, but you are very tempting," he replied mouth muffled by her shoulder and hands roaming at her waist.

"Charles, if you don't stop, we'll never get to eat."

"I'm becoming less and less hungry by the minute," he whispered as his hands trailed up her abdomen under her loose corset to brush her breasts.

"Charles, how would you set the table for a five course meal?"

Encircling her nipple with his thumb, he replied, "Knife, spoon, couple of forks, I don't really care at the moment."

"With Lady Violet coming to dine?"

Straightening he said, "I should never have told you about that!"

She finished fastening her corset and pulled her dress over her head. Subdued now, he fastened the buttons on her dress while she tied his tie. He leaned forward to kiss her lightly and said, "We'll pick this up after luncheon my Scottish vixen."

"I will hold you to that my English butler," she replied as she tucked his tie into his waistcoat.


	29. Chapter 29

**Probably heading into my own personal alternate universe after this chapter. I will stay true to the rest of Series 1, but probably will be non-compliant with Series 2 based on the press pack. Again, I still reserve the right to refuse their reality and substitute my own. Also, I just couldn't fit the rest of this into the 30 chapters I planned. It's looking like maybe 2-3 more chapters and an epilogue. I have a couple of ideas for my next fics, but they're a little too angsty. I think I need to do some humor before I tackle that again. If anyone has any ideas, feel free to suggest them.**

Smiling at him over the rim of her teacup, she saw that for someone who was not hungry, he was putting an impressive amount of food away. "I thought you weren't hungry, Charles."

He paused, chewing his last bite with relish, "No, love, just a different hunger was winning out at the moment. I want to be sure I am ready for the day to come. I have a feeling that it will be busy."

"I think I am beginning to have that same feeling," she said with a light in her eyes.

"Now, Elsie, don't-," he said plaintively, "let us have some dessert first, at least."

"Charles, I'm not that eager!" she said, a little offended, "Well, not quite that eager."

He wisely chose to not comment and instead looked around for the waiter so that they could have that dessert.

After dessert, she waited while he settled the bill and walked over to the innkeeper.

"You didn't want the sandwiches last night, sir?"

"No, I mean, yes, we did want them. We just, er, forgot," Charles replied, blushing just a little.

The innkeeper chuckled and looked past Charles' shoulder to Elsie, "Well, that's understandable sir. Would you like me to send some up tonight?"

"Yes, thank you; that would be very good."

As they approached their door, Charles was seized by a sudden desire to do something. He quickly checked to make sure the hallway was clear as he unlocked their door. Instead of stepping back to let her enter, he turned to kiss her. After he kissed her, he scooped her in his arms. He stepped quickly through the door with her before she could object and kicked it shut with his heel.

Laughing, Elsie asked, "Charles, whatever possessed you?"

"I didn't carry you over the threshold before," he replied, "I thought every woman deserves to have that happen at least one time in her life."

"Thank you, Charles, but now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?"

His smile turned a little wolfish, and he carried her over to the bed. He lay down beside her and pulled her to him for several delightful kisses. He stroked her back lingering at her bottom as his kisses became more heated. She pulled back a little, "Charles, at the risk of being horribly unromantic, shouldn't you lock the door?"

Grunting in agreement, he reluctantly pulled away and walked to the door to lock it. When he turned back to the bed, he saw that Elsie had gone to the wardrobe and was working to remove her dress. "Was that just a ploy so that I wouldn't wrinkle your dress?" he asked with a half smile.

"Well, I suppose that we could have just tossed our clothes all over the room, but you know that the untidiness would probably have driven me to distraction."

Pulling his coat off as he approached the wardrobe, he asked, "So I should just drop my tie on the floor to frustrate you?"

"If you think you're actually capable of such a thing. You've been in service longer than me."

"Well, at least you won't have to worry about picking up after me in our old age," he replied as he bent to kiss her forehead.

His kiss landed on her hair instead as she dropped her head suddenly, and he heard a small sniff.

"What is it Elsie? Surely it doesn't bother you to think of us as old, does it?"

"No, no, it's not thinking of us as old. It's-, I rather like the idea of us growing old together, that's all."

He placed one arm around her shoulders and used his other to lift her chin so that he could look into her eyes, "I like the idea of that, too." And he kissed her with a great deal of tenderness and not a little love.

She pulled back slowly and wiped her eyes, "While I want to grow old with you, I don't want to do it here waiting to get undressed." Matching her words, she placed her hands on his waistcoat and began working at the buttons.

He chuckled and began to work loose the rest of the buttons on her dress.

After the delightfully prolonged exercise of undressing each other was complete, they lay together facing each other on the bed. Elsie stroked his shoulders while his hand resumed its previous caresses from back to waist. Somehow, the thought of growing old with Charles made every touch and every kiss seem sweeter. "Charles, I do love you, you dear sweet man," she whispered against his lips.

In answer, he kissed his way down to her breasts, spending only a short time on each before moving lower. As he kissed his way down her abdomen, realization dawned and Elsie thought, "_Surely he's not—we're much too old for that, aren't we?" _As he reached his intended target, she moaned and thought _"Apparently not," _before all thought fled.

After bringing her to her release, he continued to tease her with his tongue bringing her to the edge again. He entered her then and pushed her over the edge with slow, deep thrusts. She found herself again, not floating slowly back to earth, but rising to an even higher peak. Fireworks exploded behind her eyes. As the sound of blood rushing in her ears receded, she heard his moan as he collapsed against her.

After she recovered her breath and senses, she said, "Charles, I don't know if you're trying to kill me or to drive me insane, but please don't ever stop."

He laughed breathlessly and said, "I'm just trying to make up for lost time."

She curled around him in answer and laid her head on his chest. He traced lazy circles on her shoulder with his thumb as he fell asleep to the sound of her purring.

Waking later, he felt her breath brushing the hairs on his chest as he listened to her soft snores. He looked toward the window to see that the last traces of sunlight were fading. He resumed his gentle exploration of her shoulders while he tried to decide if he was hungry enough to walk to the door and check for the sandwiches. Elsie stirred a little then, murmuring his name as she tightened her hold on his abdomen and curled closer. Deciding that the sandwiches could wait, he contented himself with his current position. As he held her, the conviction he'd had while he was in London began to increase. The more he considered it, the more sure he was. Now he would just have to convince Elsie.

Elsie woke slowly enjoying her nice, warm, moving pillow. She felt a gentle touch on her shoulders that tightened a little as she stirred. She lifted her head to look at Charles, noticing that it was now nearly dark. He smiled down at her and asked, "Hungry?" Her stomach growled at his question, and he laughed, "I'll take that as a yes. If you'll let me up, I'll go check the door for the sandwiches." She pulled her arm and leg back and sat up to let him roll out of the bed. Pulling on his robe he crossed to the door to find the sandwiches on a small cart with two bottles of beer.

Walking back to the bed with the sandwiches and beer, he smiled appreciatively at Elsie sitting with her back against the headboard, nude to the waist. She really did have lovely breasts, a very nice view for his supper. "Charles, that smile is a little wicked to just be for the sandwiches."

"I was just thinking that I am going to have a nice dinner show," he said smile broadening as he noticed a blush spreading down to those very lovely breasts.

She started to lift the sheets, and he pleaded, "Now, Elsie, I'll stop teasing. Let me enjoy the view. I'd think you'd be past modesty with me by now."

She smiled at him, and more importantly stopped pulling up the sheets. "I suppose I should be flattered that you still find me so attractive," she said as he set the tray down on the bed.

"I can't ever imagine a time when you'll not be attractive to me," he said seriously.

"You once told me that you weren't very good at this sort of thing. I have yet to see that that is the case," she said as she took a sandwich and bottle of beer.

"I am not very good at romance," he insisted as he took her bottle back from her to uncork it, "Everything I say to you is just honesty, pure and simple. My attraction won't ever lessen because I am attracted to you, not just your parts. Although the parts are quite lovely, I might add," he finished with a leer as he handed her bottle back to her.

Smiling at him, she said, "I rather like your parts, too." She had the pleasure of seeing him blush as he took his first bite of sandwich.

Having finished off the sandwiches and safely stowing the cart back in the hall, Charles returned to the bed to wrap himself around Elsie. He pulled her back against his chest with an arm draped over her breasts and placed a kiss on her shoulder. She tilted her head to the side to encourage his kisses as he worked his way from her shoulder up her neck to the spot behind her ear where he spent a considerable amount of time. She turned in his arms and wrapped hers around his neck. Meeting his lips with her own, she leaned into the kisses which had a kind of languid quality that was mesmerizing. He sucked a little at her tongue and lower lip as she pulled her lips from his. She kissed him again with her tongue tracing his lips. He murmured appreciatively and drew her closer to him. She felt that he was very ready for her and surprised herself with the realization that she was very ready for him as well. She pushed herself closer to him, and he gripped her hip to push her up the bed just a little, letting his hand trail down her thigh to her knee. He lifted her knee over his hip and pushed into her. She grasped his back and began the slow rhythm that would bring release while he raised his hand to caress her breast. She continued to kiss him then and suckled the tongue he pushed into her mouth. Finding their release together, she collapsed against his chest while listening to his ragged breaths.

"I love you, Charles Carson, pure and simple."

"And I love you, Elsie Hughes, pure and simple."

The morning light woke them entangled in each other's arms. Elsie realized that she was holding Charles' hand and looking down couldn't realize where his ended and hers began. She thought for a moment how wonderful it would be to wake like this every day. She could think of nothing better than to end and begin her days with Charles. Shaking her head a little she thought, _"Remember Elsie, there's a price for everything. You have to be willing to pay it."_ He squeezed her hand lightly, and she looked up into his eyes. He smiled at her with such sleepy adoration that she thought if she didn't kiss him, she would die so she drew his head toward her for a kiss. "Make love to me Charles," she whispered against his lips.

Pushing her back against the cushions, he made love to her as thoroughly as he could imagine and more thoroughly than she ever had.

Later, as they finished dressing, Charles placed his hands on her waist and said, "I'm sorry that we have to return to reality so soon."

"Soon or late, we have to return. No need to be sad about it," she said briskly with a half smile as she straightened his tie.

Tilting her head back so that he could look in her eyes, he said seriously, "I am sad about it, and you are a little too or I don't know you as well as I think."

"Yes, I am sad. It is wonderful to sleep in your arms. I feel cherished and protected. It's even better to wake up with you. I will miss this closeness," she wrapped her arms around him to emphasize her point.

"Elsie, I have to admit that I do dread going our separate ways each night," he began hesitantly.

She agreed, "Yes, leaving you each night is the hardest thing. These past two nights have been wonderful because we haven't had to separate."

"Then, why don't we stop separating. Marry me, Elsie and we'll spend the rest of our nights and mornings together."

She looked at him closely, trying to ascertain his seriousness. She saw no teasing smile, only a breathless hopefulness that made her very happy.

"Charles, you've offered this before and…," she began.

Stopping her, he said, "I'm not offering it this time, Elsie. I'm asking. Will you please marry me?"

"Yes, dear man, I'll marry you," she answered, "but one of us will have to be practical, and I thought up to this moment it was you. What will we do so that we'll be able to have a bed to go to at night and food to eat on all those mornings?"

Picking her up to hug her to him at her affirmative answer, he kissed her soundly on the mouth to end her questions.

Pulling back, he said, "We'll ask his Lordship's permission to marry and stay in service. If he refuses, we'll find a shop to run. I am still the practical one, love. This is not a spur of the moment question. I've been thinking about it for awhile. Elsie, if this was just about making love, we could go on like we have, but I want to be able to sleep with you every night and wake with you every morning."

She pulled him to her for another kiss, which became two as joy overtook her.

"I should also point out that we promised to love, honor and cherish each other in this very room seven years ago, and I told you I didn't need a piece of paper to prove our commitment," she said with a smile.

"I still feel that way, despite our estrangement, I have never stopped loving and cherishing you. In the interest of practicality, however, that piece of paper can come in pretty handy. It will allow us to sleep and wake together without fear of being caught, it will allow you to inherit what little bit of money I have saved, and it will allow us to see each other if we're ever unfortunate enough to go to the hospital. In the eyes of the rest of the world that piece of paper is very important."

"I can certainly see your point, although if you were ever in hospital, I would pity the person who tried to keep me from you. Charles, in the interest of practicality, could you wait to say anything to his Lordship until after the garden party. We'll have to stay until after that regardless, and I'd rather not cause any additional stress."

He laughed a little at that and said, "I can give them a few more weeks. I'll have you the rest of my life."

"I only hope you don't want to throw me back. You don't know all my bad habits yet."

"No, just the purring, temper, and complete intolerance for untidiness."

"I do not purr. I hum."

"Yes, love," he murmured as he drew her to him for another kiss.

The train ride to Downton village was pleasant although they had to share their compartment this time. Trains were too crowded right now for even Charles' glares to ensure them privacy. His great looming presence was comforting though, and he easily stowed their bags overhead. She was reminded again just why a 6'2" giant was handy to have on trips. They sat quietly; his hand gripping hers where it rested on his knee, watching the countryside go by. As they approached Downton village, he gave her hand a light squeeze which she returned. They departed the train not knowing that a pair of observant Irish eyes was trained on them.


	30. Chapter 30

Tom Branson had been sent to the village to fetch some packages that were being delivered for the young ladies of the house. Since Mr. Carson's train was due to arrive that afternoon as well, he was instructed to fetch him too. When Mr. Carson stepped off the train, Tom started forward but was unseen as Mr. Carson turned around to help someone else off the train—Mrs. Hughes. _"Well, well, well, Old Carson got lucky it seems, if time with the housekeeper could be considered luck," _Tom thought to himself with a grin. He tried to decide just who he should tell first as he stepped back to watch them unobserved. Mr. Carson maneuvered them through the crowd to a less hectic spot. Setting their bags at Mrs. Hughes feet, he placed his hand on her waist and leaned down to speak next to her ear. As he walked off, Mrs. Hughes watched him go with a fond look. Tom watched this exchange with some surprise, that didn't look like two people who'd just happened to meet on the train, and it didn't look like two people who'd gotten together for a bit of fun either. _"He looked at her like my Da looks at my Ma, and she smiled at him like my Ma smiles at my Da." _No; he didn't think he'd be sharing this information with anyone.

He realized with a start that Mrs. Hughes was looking around the station, and she was bound to see him so he started toward her. "Mrs. Hughes, what a surprise! I had to come to the village to fetch some packages and Mr. Carson. His train was supposed to come in around this time. Have you seen him?"

If Tom hadn't been paying particular attention, he wouldn't have noticed the blush. "Actually, yes, I have. He arrived just before me I believe, and we ran into each other. As you can see, he's left me with the bags while he's gone to find transportation."

"Well, the transportation has found you. If you'll excuse me, I'll go find him so we can get you two home."

He knew before he turned around that he would see Mr. Carson approaching by the brightening of her eyes. Mr. Carson bore down on them with just a tiny smidgen of concern creasing his forehead. He looked first at Mrs. Hughes and then at him as he said, "Mr. Branson, this is a bit of a surprise. Surely you didn't come to the village just to fetch me."

The subtle exchange between them only confirmed what he now felt was a certainty. He was definitely keeping this information to himself. "No, sir, there were some packages that needed fetching as well as yourself. I was just telling Mrs. Hughes that I'm certain I can find room for her as well."

Tom guided Mrs. Hughes toward the car, carrying the two bags, while Mr. Carson went to let the cart go. Having only thought he had to pick up Mr. Carson, Tom had piled the back seat with the packages. He quickly moved these to the front so that they could sit in the back. _"Might as well give them a few more minutes together,"_ he thought to himself with a smile.

When Mr. Carson found them, he was a little disturbed to see that he and Mrs. Hughes would be riding in the back. "Mr. Branson, this really isn't appropriate. I should be riding in the front with you."

"Well, sir, as you can see there isn't any room, and shifting the packages around would take too much time. I'm also sure that Mrs. Hughes would rather ride without a great stack of packages beside her."

Mr. Carson relented a little at this and after handing Mrs. Hughes into the back settled himself in uncomfortably. Tom started the car and got behind the wheel, he glanced back to see Mr. Carson tapping his knee nervously. Once they got under way he watched in the rear view mirror as Mrs. Hughes stilled his hand with her own. Mr. Carson smiled at her and lightly held her hand. Tom didn't look in the rear view mirror after that. _"Just like my Ma and Da,"_ he thought.

When they arrived at Downton, Tom pulled around to the back door to let them out. Mr. Carson stepped out first and turned to help Mrs. Hughes. Tom brought out their bags and handed them to Mr. Carson.

Mrs. Hughes reached for her own bag and said, "I can take mine, Mr. Carson, I am quite capable of carrying my own bag."

Mr. Carson gave her a stern look as he gripped the bags tighter, "I know that you are capable, but it would be my _pleasure_ to help you."

She relented and said, "Thank you, Mr. Carson," as she turned to enter the house. Tom had to step lively to reach the door before her so that he could open it. He held the door for both her and Mr. Carson who nodded his thanks with a raised eyebrow.

Once they were inside and had greeted Mrs. Patmore and the other servants briefly, Charles turned to Elsie, "May I carry your bag to your room for you, Mrs. Hughes?"

Giving him a questioning look, Elsie replied, "Yes, of course, thank you, Mr. Carson. I will come up to let you in."

Carrying both their bags, he followed Elsie up the stairs. He was distracted enough that the view didn't affect him this time. Well, not much anyway. He followed Elsie to her room. Stepping inside with her, he pushed the door shut behind them. "Did he see us get off the same train?" he asked in a low voice.

"I don't know. At first, I thought he didn't, but then he gave me some odd looks. Even if he did, though, he wouldn't _know_ anything would he? We could have just happened to be on the same train."

He gave a half smile at hearing his own sentiments echoed. "That is true," then more seriously, "Elsie, at the risk of making you angry, I want to tell you something. I know that you are perfectly capable of carrying your own bag, opening doors, or lifting heavy objects. It gives me pleasure to do these things for you, because I feel that I am helping you. I would like to point out that I am perfectly capable of handling the staff, this nasty business with Mr. Bates and Thomas, but it makes it infinitely easier when you are there to help me. Please allow me to do what I can to make your life easier."

Eyes shining, Elsie placed her hands on his shoulders and said, "I'm sorry Charles. That's what you get for falling in love with an independent woman, I suppose. Forgive me if I make you think you're not needed."

He bent to give her a tender kiss and to hug her to him, "We need to get back to work now, I suppose."

"Yes, I'm sure there's plenty to be done," she replied as she touched his cheek affectionately.

They went then to their separate realms to see that what needed doing was indeed done. There was as usual a lot of bustle around the household. The family would be coming back day after tomorrow after all. They did not see each other the rest of that day. After he locked up the house, Charles came to her parlor. Not seeing her at first, he turned to leave when she called to him from the sofa. Coming further into the room, he saw her stretched out with her arm over her eyes. Chuckling a little he crossed to kneel beside the sofa. "Tired?"

"Very"

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"No, I want you to make my life easier."

She felt a very large, very gentle hand on her upper back then, urging her to rise. She opened her eyes to look at him and did as he bid. He sat where her head had been and then hand on her shoulder; he pressed her down urging her to lay her head in his lap. Passing the tips of his fingers over her eyes, he closed her eyelids. Placing his hand on her temple he began to caress it with the tips of his fingers in slow circles. She murmured appreciatively and turned her head to kiss his palm. He trailed his fingers over and behind her ear to her neck and began to massage her lower neck and shoulder. She opened her eyes to smile at him languidly.

"Easier?" he asked.

"Much. Thank you."

They stayed like that for awhile, until it dawned on Elsie that Charles was probably very tired as well. She rose to a sitting position and turned to him.

"You must be exhausted. Thank you for taking care of me, but you need to get some rest."

Taking her shoulders, he pulled her to him for a kiss. They rose together and walked through her parlor door holding hands. He took her over to the steps and placing his hand on her back guided her up the first few. When she realized that he wasn't coming up, she turned to look at him questioningly, "Charles, I know that you are tired. You should be in your bed."

"Careful, Elsie, or I'll take that as a proposition. Go on up, I have one or two accounts I still want to look over before I sleep."

"Who says that it's not a proposition, love? But you will not look over a couple of accounts which would probably turn into ten. What's good for the goose is good for the gander. If I must allow you to spoil me terribly, then I must be allowed to take care of you a little as well. You need rest, and you need to go to bed, _to sleep, _now."

Charles leaned forward just a little so that he could lower his voice, "What would be good for the gander right now would not get the goose much rest tonight, but you win. I will go to bed, _to sleep."_

She laughed a little at his lifted eyebrows and turned, starting up the stairs. Charles left his hand on the small of her back for another moment and gave it a slight caress with his thumb before allowing his hand to drop and starting up the stairs himself.

This entire exchange had been witnessed by a wide-eyed Anna. She had come down to the kitchen for a glass of cold milk and had hidden when she heard them coming out of the parlor, not wanting to be caught out by Mrs. Hughes. Who would have thought? Mrs. Hughes flirting with Old Carson, and not shyly. They'd flirted as though they were perfectly willing to carry through. Like an old married couple, she realized. Thoughtfully, Anna drank her milk slowly so that they would have plenty of time to get upstairs to bed. _"Whichever bed they end up in,_" she thought to herself wryly.

Elsie came down early the next morning to get an early start on planning her day. She yawned a little, smiling as she thought of the previous nights activities. Apparently, following her up the stairs had awakened Charles sufficiently for him to try a bit of seduction before they parted. Sighing to herself she admitted that it had only taken a bit for her to be willing to join him in his room. An almost deserted men's quarters was too great a temptation to pass. Shaking her head to clear these thoughts, she decided that she was going to have to insist on rest for them both tonight. As she was coming to this determination, she passed his open pantry door indicating that he was already there. She looked in to see him bent over a ledger.

"Mr. Carson," she said with some exasperation, "I thought you were going to get some rest."

"I did have a most restful evening, thank you Mrs. Hughes," he replied with a grin, "but now it is morning, and it is time to work. I assume that you are going to do a bit of work as well."

Glaring at him a little for his intentional double entendre, Elsie came to his desk to place her hand on his arm. "Charles, I know for a fact that you didn't get much sleep last night, and these accounts can't be that important."

"These accounts need to be done, and I woke when you left so I came to do them. I will admit, though, that I'm having a bit of trouble sleeping."

"The business with Mr. Bates?"

"Hmmm, yes, amongst other things. It will need to be settled, but I find it impossible to believe that there is not some explanation. He is being frustratingly reticent, however."

"Yes, reticence can be quite frustrating," she replied with a wry smile.

Smiling at her small dig, he patted her hand and said, "Go; do your work, and I will do mine. Maybe we'll both be caught up enough for some time alone after lunch."

After luncheon, Charles walked to Elsie's parlor and saw that she was putting on her hat. "Going out, Mrs. Hughes?"

"Yes, I'm going for a bit of a walk; my legs still feel cramped from sitting on the train."

"Would you mind if I join you? Some fresh air sounds nice after the London smoke."

"Not at all, Mr. Carson, your company would be most welcome," she replied with a smile.

As he held the door for Elsie to walk through, he did not see Anna's small smile.

The brief walk and their time in their lane, as he had come to think of it, was essentially the only privacy they had for the next several days as the family returned to Downton and the garden party was planned. Elsie had to deal with the absence of Mrs. Patmore (God bless his Lordship for the surgery). In addition to having even more of the planning for the garden party thrust upon her by Lady Grantham's indisposition.

They had the very good news that Lady Grantham was now surprisingly pregnant with what could very well be a son who would displace Mr. Matthew Crawley. Although he privately felt somewhat sorry for Mr. Crawley, he couldn't help agreeing with Elsie that this was very good news indeed. Although neither he nor Elsie seemed to share the younger staff's belief that it was shocking that this should happen 'at their age.' It seemed that anyone under 30 cannot fathom that anyone over 40 still remembers the acts which result in bringing babies into the world. Elsie seemed especially happy for her Ladyship and expressed that she must feel very blessed by this unexpected joy. Her happiness tinged with just a little wistfulness made him wish that they had not been too old to have children themselves.


	31. Chapter 31

A few days before the garden party, he and Elsie were sitting in his pantry reviewing some of the final plans, when William came hurrying into the room still wearing his apron. "Beg pardon, sir. Mrs. Hughes, her Ladyship's bell is ringing something awful and Miss O'Brien's not around. I thought I should fetch you."

Elsie glanced at the clock and threw Charles a questioning glance. He looked as well and realized why she was puzzled. O'Brien should have been in her Ladyship's room at this time. Something must be wrong. She rose to leave the room while Charles spoke to William, "You were quite right to come to Mrs. Hughes. Go take that apron off and get into your jacket. We may be needed."

He put his own jacket on and started up the back stairs, only to see Miss O'Brien rushing down. She was frantic and distraught but managed to convey the fact that her Ladyship was hurt and that the doctor was needed urgently. Charles went quickly down to his pantry, sending William to fetch Tom, while he telephoned the hospital to ask that Dr. Clarkson be ready to come to Downton. Once he'd sent Tom off to bring the doctor, he went upstairs.

Knocking on the door lightly, he waited for Elsie. She came to the door, stepping out quickly and shutting it behind her. She looked very worried. Laying his hand on her shoulder, he said, "I've sent for the doctor, he should be here soon. What do we need to do?"

"I don't know that anything can be done. She slipped getting out of the bath. Miss O'Brien and I managed to get her into her bed. I don't think she's hurt, but I don't know about…"

"The baby?" he finished for her.

"Yes," she said with a catch in her voice. He drew her to him quickly to give her a quick hug and pat on the back.

"I'll go make sure that the rest of the staff stays out of the way. If you need anything, ring the bell. Would you like me to send Anna or Gwen up?"

"No; Miss O'Brien is being most helpful, and I will stay here. Have you informed his Lordship?"

"I've sent Mr. Bates to find him. He should be here soon," as he was saying these words Lord Grantham turned the corner almost running down the hall.

"Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, what has happened?"

Elsie repeated her story to the Earl emphasizing that her Ladyship seemed well but leaving out her worries about the child. Letting him into the room, she beckoned for Miss O'Brien to come out, to give them their privacy. She sent Charles away while she and Miss O'Brien waited outside the door.

Charles herded the staff downstairs and instructed Anna to listen for the bell, while he went to the front door to wait for Dr. Clarkson's arrival which thankfully came quickly. Leading the doctor up the stairs, he gave him the facts as he understood them. Dr. Clarkson sent everyone but Elsie out of the room, and Charles went downstairs to wait.

What seemed like a very long time later, Elsie came down to the servant's hall to inform the staff that her Ladyship was well but had indeed miscarried. Instead of sitting with them at the table, she went quickly to her parlor. Charles followed her, concerned. She was standing staring out of her window when he came into the room. He shut the door behind him and crossed to stand behind her, taking her shoulders in his hands. Turning her to face him, he saw the tears streaming down her face. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against him, stroking her hair.

"Oh Charles, how terrible to have your hopes raised so much only to have them destroyed!" she cried silently against his chest.

"Yes, love, shh, just let me hold you," he whispered into her hair.

"The poor babe, he would have been loved," she continued.

"It would have been a son?" he asked surprised.

"Yes," she replied, tears subsiding a bit.

"Elsie, take your time, but when you are ready we should probably go back into the hall," he said, "the staff is probably going to be at loose ends trying to decide what to do."

"Yes, I should probably take a tray to her Ladyship, although I'm sure she won't eat anything," Elsie replied, removing his handkerchief from his jacket pocket to dry her tears.

"Help yourself," he said with a half smile.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Charles, I didn't think," she replied with a slight blush.

"I don't mind," he replied with a pat on her shoulder, "Rather nice that you're so comfortable with me, actually."

Tears dried, she walked back into the servant's hall. She somehow made it through the next several hours in a haze. Today was altogether too reminiscent of another day six years before, like seeing an episode from her life from another point of view. Of course, there were differences. No one else, except Dr. Clarkson, had known what she was going through. She had had no one to sympathize or to sneer over her loss. Thomas' comment about the child being 'no bigger than a hamster' had disturbed her greatly. How could he not know that one was a mother from the first moment of discovery, and that the loss of a miscarriage was felt just as keenly as the loss of life on a boat or a battlefield? She blessed William and hoped no one noticed that he got an extra large piece of beef that night.

She had also had no loving husband to share her grief. When she took her Ladyship's tray, it warmed her heart to see his Lordship sitting quietly by her bed holding her hand. Was that really fair though? She thought of Charles as he was now and then. He would have gladly shared her grief if she'd only let him. He _had_ shared her grief and made it infinitely easier to bear without even knowing what he was doing. Those two days that he'd come back from London had saved her sanity. She realized now that in foolishly trying to spare him hurt or herself disappointment, she had only caused them both more. If she could turn back the clock, she would have told him the minute they were first alone together when he returned. She allowed herself a little regret over what their lives could have been if she had. These thoughts were interrupted when Charles opened her door and leaned into the room.

"Elsie, I've sent everyone else off to bed. I'm going up to wait for Dr. Clarkson. After he's left, I'll lock up and come to you. Where do you want to sleep tonight?"

Her thoughts were confused enough that she could only give him a puzzled look.

"You are distraught. I will sleep with you here, in your room, in my room, or on the drawing room sofa if you like, but I have no intention of letting you sleep alone tonight."

She smiled at his small joke, "Here, Charles. Come back to me here."

He smiled in return and nodded, closing the door behind him.

After he left, Elsie Hughes sat thinking. She thought of her loss. She thought of the years of hurt she'd caused him. She thought of the comfort that he would have surely offered. She decided to tell him. He deserved to know. The child had been his as well as hers. She knew he would be hurt by her reasons for not telling him, but surely he would forgive her. She found herself realizing that even if he did not, she could not bear to not tell him. It was too great of a loss in her life not to share with him. If she did not tell him, then it would start to eat away at their relationship. She would not allow deception to be the cause of a break in their relationship again. As she came to this decision, studying the carpet pattern, the door opened.

Charles knelt before her, filling her vision so that she could see nothing but his eyes and the hurt that was there.

"You miscarried our child."

She looked up at him, startled, as he continued more gently. She found that she had to cry with regret for the hurt in his eyes and with relief that she could finally tell him all.

Moving to sit on the sofa and pull her into his lap, he held her while she cried. Her hair was damp from his tears. He held her gently, determined not to leave until she had told him, and she hoped he would not leave once she had.

Smoothing her hands across his jacket, she began, "After you'd gone to London, I realized that I was sick every morning. That was my first sign, but there were others. I couldn't be sure, because _things_ had been irregular for months. There were many changes, though, which seemed to confirm my suspicions. I didn't feel that I could go to Dr. Clarkson, because I didn't want anyone to know before you. By the time I was completely certain that I was pregnant, I began to…; I lost our child. Dr. Clarkson did come then and confirmed what I already knew and insisted that I get some rest. I had to write to his Lordship for permission, and you know the rest."

"Oh, Elsie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that this happened to you, and I'm sorry that you were all alone. I don't understand why you didn't write me, though."

"I thought I would tell you when you came back. I just couldn't figure out how to fit 'I am pregnant with your love child' into a letter. I thought I had plenty of time to tell you. What difference would it make if you knew before or after your return to Downton?"

"I can understand that, but why then did you never tell me of your miscarriage. I knew that you were ill, and that you were very sad. You had ample opportunity to tell me."

"Charles, I can't explain. There were so many reasons. It seemed unfair to give you the sad news when you'd never had the glad. If you would have thought it was glad, that is. It just seemed that since I miscarried it was as though nothing had happened."

"Don't say that!" he said sharply, "The loss of our child is not nothing!"

She hugged him to her, "Oh, Charles."

"Elsie, I would have wanted to know. I deserved to know."

"Charles, please understand, I know that now, but then I had been so confused. I was very happy, but I didn't know how you'd react. I knew you'd marry me, but how would you _feel_ about having a child. I was so afraid that you'd be dismayed, while I found myself wanting your child very much. Add to that that I had no idea how we would have made a living after the baby came, and I just was lost."

In a soft voice, Charles said, "We would have run a tea shop. In London. I had made inquiries. I wanted to make a new life with you. There were two cozy rooms above. A baby would have fit nicely I imagine."

Elsie pressed her face against his shoulder with new tears, and he held her rocking her gently as he thought of the life they could have had.

"Elsie, is she, is our child buried anywhere?"

"Yes, down our lane, beside that tree where we sit. Dr. Clarkson did it for me. I just couldn't bear not to at least bury her. I used to go there often alone. Why do you say she?"

"I just assumed. I've always wanted a little brown eyed girl."

They sat in silence after that for quite a long time. When Elsie heard the clock strike midnight, she said, "Charles, I realize that you must be very angry with me, and I'll understand if you want to leave. I have no real excuse for not telling you other than I wasn't thinking straight. If I had been I would have known that you wouldn't have been relieved at my miscarriage. You would have only offered me comfort. I know that now, but I was so devastated that I just couldn't see that then."

He stood then, pushing her gently to the side and walked to the door. Elsie's eyes closed in defeat and acceptance. She bowed her head as she heard the click of the lock. She knew that this had been a possibility, that he might leave in disappointment. Perhaps once he'd had time to consider how she had felt they would be able to work through this.

After a few moments, Charles cleared his throat and said, "Elsie, you should probably get a little more comfortable if we're to sleep here tonight."

She looked up to see him undressed to shirt and trousers. Surprised, she asked, "You don't want to leave?"

"Elsie, I never want to sleep anywhere but beside you for the rest of my life."

They lay together comfortably on the sofa; her head on his chest and legs between his with his arms wrapped around her shoulders. They did not sleep at first, but lay together taking comfort from each other. Finally, Elsie said, "I didn't think you liked tea shops."

"I wouldn't want to run one by myself, but with you for company, I think it would have been pleasant. We would have done, could still do well together. We essentially run a business now, albeit with someone else's money. We could split the work between us quite well I think, and we would always go home together at the end of the day."

"All that time together! I think we'd have a lot of disagreements."

"You once told me Scots women don't disagree; they fight. Yes, we'd fight over many things likely. You would probably want some dainty, horribly unpractical china."

"While you'd want some durable, ugly pottery."

"Exactly. We'd argue about it, come to a suitable compromise, and then I'd take you up to our rooms to make you forget what all the bother was about," he finished with a smile and a kiss on her forehead.

She laughed a little, "It sounds rather nice when you put it like that."

"It would have been. It will be," he said hugging her closer.

They fell asleep then comforted by each other's presence and thoughts of a future together.

When Charles woke later he realized something was wrong. There was sunlight coming through the window. He looked at the clock. 5:30. He woke Elsie quickly. "We'll need to hurry a bit, love. Daisy's sure to be up and about and likely some of the other staff as well."

He pulled his trousers on and his waistcoat leaving it undone. Carrying his jacket over his arm with collar and tie stuffed in the pocket, he moved to the door. Elsie was just doing up enough of her buttons to be decent if met on the stairs. After a quick look to be sure the corridor was clear, he ushered her through the door to the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, he paused and decided to risk a quick kiss filled with promise, "I'll see you at breakfast and again tonight."

As they hurried up the stairs, Thomas came around the corner where he'd been hiding. _"Old Carson and Hughes getting together for tumble. Who'd have thought?" _He began to work out just how he could use this valuable information.

**One more chapter to go, I think, and an epilogue. Definitely into AU land with the next chapter and a little bit of wish fulfillment for myself. **


	32. Chapter 32

**This is where we start to get into my own private AU along with my own personal wish fulfillment. I know the story seems to be growing, but I have one more chapter and a short epilogue. It was either that or one monster sized chapter. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with my ramblings and again I greatly appreciate the reviews.**

The garden party from Charles' standpoint seemed to be going well. Everything was running smoothly. Elsie had done a wonderful job as usual. The pleasure of the day was marred by Lady Mary's distress and the recent loss, but there were no mishaps and the party looked to be a success. Charles' happiness was increased by the fact that this was one more milestone passed on his way to being open about his relationship with Elsie. The day was only made brighter by Thomas' announcing his intention to leave. He wanted to work out a month, but Charles was hard pressed to want him to even work out another week. Then the telegram arrived. He brought it to his Lordship without any clue or concern of its contents. As he saw the alarm on his face, he knew the news must be bad indeed. When he saw that Lord Grantham intended to make an announcement to everyone at the party, he guessed at the contents. Looking up to thankfully see Elsie near, he caught her eye and saw that she had guessed as well. Making her way over to him, she stood beside him as Lord Grantham declared that they were now at war. Hardly thinking, he reached down and grasped her hand firmly in his own.

The mood of the party darkened considerably after the announcement, naturally. Most of the guests left quickly wanting to get to their own homes to discuss these events. None but the Crawleys were left after two hours. Charles did not miss the anxious glances Lady Mary had for Mr. Crawley; they were the same as the ones Anna had for Mr. Bates and Daisy had for William. He would have had to have been a fool to not know the question behind them. "Will he go?" Following Mr. Crawley and his Lordship into the house to bring them some brandy in the library, he left Elsie behind to direct the clearing up. Once he had them settled, he went back outside himself. He found Elsie speaking urgently to William as they were gathering empty glasses. She had a soft spot for that boy, and Charles was sure it would break her heart when he left. As Thomas came out of a tent, clearly not seeing him, with a heavily laden tray, he heard him mutter, "Look at her, you'd think she was his own mother the way she's carrying on."

"Thomas, you should get that tray inside," he snapped to let Thomas know he was near.

Thomas gave a slight start and then a sharp look, "Yes, Mr. Carson."

By the time the clearing up was finished and everyone's nerves were settled enough for bed, it was nearly 1 o'clock. Elsie waited in her parlor, knowing Charles would come. He did, jacket already off, he pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his collar as he crossed the room to sink into her armchair with a sigh. He kicked off his shoes as he stretched his legs before him.

"Well, my dear, there is most definitely an 'atmosphere' as you like to put it. I happened upon no fewer than three whispered conversations as I made my rounds, and unless I'm very much mistaken Lord and Lady Grantham are 'having words'."

"You can't mean he is going to leave her so soon! She needs him to be with her right now."

"No; I do not think he will leave her soon, but he will leave. He will see it to be his duty, and a man has no honor if he does not do his duty."

"His duty! To die in a silly war?"

"Yes, Elsie, it is a man's duty to fight for his country if he is able. If I were a younger man, I would be going."

"Does a man not have a duty to his wife and children?"

"Yes, but sometimes there are different duties that are crossways to each other, and we just have to muddle through," he said tiredly, "Elsie, I don't want us to 'have words'. I came to you to comfort you and to be comforted. Come here and let me hold you," he finished holding his arms out to her, beckoning her to sit on his lap.

She came to him, and they sat there comforting one another and dosing until morning.

The next week was tense. Charles was certain that William was going to leave soon. His feelings for Daisy were the only thing holding him back, and Charles was sure his sense of duty would overcome those feelings soon. Thomas took an almost demonic delight in needling the boy. Asking him if he was afraid to do what he could for his country, reminding him that he himself was going to work for the medical corps. Elsie was quite put out with Thomas. She was as fond of William in her own way as Daisy and wanted desperately for him to wait. Maybe, she reasoned, if she could just persuade him to wait a few months, the war would be over by the time he joined. This all came to a head three nights after the announcement as they were preparing to serve dinner. Thomas was speaking to William, telling him of recruiters in the village. Elsie happened to overhear and spoke sharply to Thomas before moving off to her parlor. As Charles came out of his pantry, pulling on his jacket he heard Thomas' next words.

"Just because that dried up old spinster can't have any kids of her own she's got to adopt William and mother him."

"Thomas," Charles called, livid with anger, if Elsie heard those words she'd be devastated, "Come here, I want to speak to you."

Thomas came into the hall facing Charles where he stood in his pantry door.

"You will not speak that way of Mrs. Hughes. She is your superior in many ways, but most importantly in position in this household for your remaining time here."

"Don't think I don't know why you're defending her," he sneered, "Just because you use her to scratch the odd…"

Thomas' next words were thankfully cut off by his pained howl as he clutched his bleeding nose and sat down heavily on the floor. Charles straightened his cuff and flexed his hand. That had hurt his hand a little more than he remembered. The others came into the hall staring at the scene before them and trying to digest what had happened. They found Charles leaning over Thomas, speaking in low tones, "You will not speak of her in that way again. You may consider this your dismissal."

Looking up, Charles said, "William, it will be just you and I serving at table tonight. Thankfully, it's just the family and Lady Violet. Mr. Bates, you will find an envelope in the top drawer of my desk. It contains a letter of reference for Thomas along with three weeks' pay. I hadn't intended to give it to him until tomorrow, but he's not to spend another night under this roof. I would like you and Anna to escort Thomas to his room and watch as he packs. I do not want him to take anything that belongs to this house, including the clothes he is now wearing. Is that understood?"

Mr. Bates smiled, "Perfectly, sir."

Turning, he saw Elsie staring at him in astonishment.

"Mrs. Hughes?"

"Charles, what on earth?" Apparently she was not even able to think what to ask.

Not wanting to tell her exactly what had happened in front of everyone, he said, "He was talking, and I wanted him to stop."

She nodded accepting his inane explanation and then said, "You have blood on your shirt."

Looking down he saw a small spot just above the edge of his waistcoat. Leave it to Thomas to ruin a perfectly good shirt, he thought with some irritation. "We need to serve the first course now. The family will be ready to go in. I'll button my jacket to cover it. Will you run up to my room and fetch me another?"

He and William carried the first course up quickly, and everyone else went to carry out his instructions. As his Lordship saw that Thomas was not to be serving that night he asked after him.

"I am afraid that Thomas is indisposed tonight, sir. I regret to inform you that he may be leaving us sooner than we originally thought," he said with a bow, watching William out of the corner of his eye; he was gratified to notice no change in the boy's features. He was learning quite nicely.

Unfortunately for Charles, as he bowed, his Lordship noticed a small spot which looked suspiciously like blood on his shirt. As Charles served the soup, he also took in his bruised knuckles, and his eyes widened in surprise. Mr. Carson was going to have some explaining to do.

Having served the main course, Charles hurried down the steps, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his collar and waistcoat on the way. This was going to be his best chance to change his shirt. His Lordship had shot him a very suspicious glance, and Charles was a little afraid that he might have seen the blood. Hurrying into his pantry, he found Elsie sitting behind his desk holding his shirt. She stood as he came in and began to work on the buttons on his shirt while he pulled his coat and waistcoat off.

"Charles, I have never seen you strike another man. What was Thomas saying that made you so angry?"

"Elsie, can we please not talk about this now? I need to get changed and back upstairs before the next course," he said as he fumbled with the buttons of his new shirt.

"You go from the top, and I'll go from the bottom," she instructed, "It's just that I've never seen you so angry. It was frightening."

"He was talking about someone indiscreetly," he whispered as he tucked his shirt into his trousers.

"He's always talking about someone indiscreetly," she replied as he put on his collar and she picked up his waistcoat and jacket, "Why did it bother you so much this time?"

She held his waistcoat for him and then began to work on the buttons while he worked on his tie. "He was talking about you," he whispered again fiercely.

"What was he saying?" she looked at him as he clamped his mouth shut refusing to say more. "Charles," she said warningly, "what was he saying about me?"

"He was implying that I just—just use you. For pleasure," he added unnecessarily.

She laughed a little, "Well, Charles, I would hope being with me is a pleasure."

He stared incredulously at her while he was pulling on his jacket. She was _teasing _him. On this extraordinarily difficult night in which he had punched his first footman in the nose and was trying to change clothes between courses while being pestered by her to answer questions he'd rather not, she was _teasing _him! Angry with her now, his voice grew louder with each word so that by the end he was almost shouting, "I should think by now that you would know that you mean much more to me than that. I have asked you to marry me, and you have accepted. That should show that you are more to me than just 'scratching the odd itch'."

She gaped at him, "Yes, Charles, I do know that and now probably everyone else does as well."

He closed his eyes as he realized what he'd done. Passing his hand over his forehead, he thought that he would really have rather told the world about their relationship in a slightly different way. And if the entire staff was listening, as they probably were, he had just effectively told the entire world or at least the entire north of England and south of Scotland. Sighing he opened his eyes and grasped Elsie by the shoulders, frightening her. He had just been very angry with her after all. He pulled her to him and kissed her very thoroughly. "I will deal with you later, woman," he whispered in her ear as he released her. Then, walking out the door, he very carefully did not look at any of the faces which were staring incredulously at him and went upstairs to be a butler for just a little while longer.

He was not really sure how he made it through the rest of that dinner. He would have to put it down to training, because he didn't even remember serving the dessert when the ladies were ready to go through to the drawing room. What had possessed him to be so loud? He supposed it had something to do with Elsie helping him to undress and dress which usually preceded and followed more pleasurable activities than serving dessert to Lady Violet. It was a wonder they hadn't heard him upstairs. He did have a carrying voice at times. Well, he would have to tell his Lordship by tomorrow at the latest, although he doubted it would take that long for the gossip to reach him. While they had been ready to make their relationship known, he could imagine many better, quieter ways to have done it. Maybe Elsie could get the rest of the staff off to bed before he came down. Picturing Mrs. Patmore, he decided that she probably couldn't.

He was so preoccupied with these thoughts that he almost didn't notice that his Lordship was walking to the library while the ladies were going to the drawing room. Charles was surprised enough that he hesitated over which way to go. Usually his Lordship stayed behind in the dining room for a single glass of port when the family dined alone and quickly joined the ladies. He was even more surprised when his Lordship looked at him indicating that Charles should join him. Charles motioned William into the drawing room and quickly held the door for Lord Grantham.

He poured a glass of brandy for his Lordship and stood by the table while he sipped it and sat in his armchair. Then the second round of torture began.

"Did you have anything to do with Thomas becoming indisposed, Mr. Carson?" he asked sternly.

"Yes, sir."

"Please explain to me what happened."

"Thomas was speaking indiscreetly about a lady. I wanted him to stop, and so I stopped him."

"A Lady? Not Lady Cora or one of my daughters I hope."

"No sir, I was using 'lady' in the more general sense. He was speaking of one of the staff sir."

"Ahh, and how did you stop him?"

By this time Carson had decided that all dissembling was useless, "I punched him in the nose, sir."

Unfortunately, his Lordship had been taking a sip of his brandy at this time, and it seemed to have gone down the wrong way. Through his coughing spell, he asked incredulously, "_You_, Carson, you _punched_ him?"

Now that was uncalled for. It wasn't like he had never punched a man before, although it had been quite a while.

"Yes sir, as you know I spent my youth in some questionable places. I found that the quickest way to end an unwanted conversation is a quick jab to the nose. It is quite painful and surprisingly effective."

Lord Grantham raised his eyebrows, obviously impressed, "Mr. Carson, you continue to amaze me with your talents. What was he saying about Mrs. Hughes?"

It was Carson's turn to gape in astonishment, "How did you know he was speaking of her sir?"

"I am not an idiot. She is the only woman on staff that I could imagine you getting this angry about."

"He was making some comments that would have been very hurtful to Elsie, had she heard him. When I instructed him to stop, he made comments that offended her honor."

Looking at him keenly, his Lordship asked, "Are you and Mrs. Hughes involved in a relationship?"

Looking down at the floor for a moment, Charles supposed he could have prolonged the agony by asking just what type of relationship was meant, but the time to bring all in the open seemed to be upon him, "If by relationship you mean that we are romantically involved with each other, then yes, sir, we are."

"How long, Mr. Carson?"

"There have been some difficulties along the way, but just over seven years, sir."

"That's almost as long as she's been housekeeper!"

"Yes, sir, I did not think it appropriate to pursue her prior to that, but once we were on equal footing, I felt free."

"I am assuming that you have not actually married in secret?"

"No, sir, we intended to ask you for your permission to marry and remain in your service once things had settled down a little."

"And if I do not give permission?"

"Then we shall marry and leave your service, sir. Living separately is no longer an option for us. I wish to be able to begin and end my days with the woman I love, and I believe that Elsie feels the same."

"That is quite well put, Mr. Carson. I can certainly understand those sentiments," Lord Grantham thought for a few moments, "With the times that are coming; I do not want to have to break in a new butler or a new housekeeper. I am sure that should you wish to remain after your marriage, arrangements could be made," then smiling, he added, "You probably don't realize that you've been referring to Mrs. Hughes by her first name. I have never heard you do so before. That was wise. There is a great deal of emotion in the way you say her name."

"Yes, sir, she is very dear to me."

"You may leave, Mr. Carson. May I have your permission to tell the ladies tonight?"

"If you don't, they will most certainly know by morning. They may well know already; news does seem to travel fast. We had a little disagreement downstairs which resulted in probably the entire staff discovering our relationship," he explained.

"You had this disagreement tonight?" Lord Grantham asked incredulously.

"After the main course," Charles nodded glumly.

"Really, I never would have known," Lord Grantham said admiringly, and then continuing sympathetically, "That's not a very good way to start an engagement, Mr. Carson."

"The engagement started two weeks ago, sir, but it is certainly not a very good way to announce it."

"Two weeks ago? While you were visiting your family?" Lord Grantham asked with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile.

Mr. Carson blushed furiously and wisely chose to say nothing.

"Pour yourself a glass of brandy, Carson, you've had a very rough night, and it will probably not improve."

While any other time, Charles would have protested vigorously at the inappropriateness of sharing a glass of brandy with his employer, he chose tonight to simply obey and hope that the night would indeed improve.

**Did anybody not want to hit Thomas after the 'hamster' comment? I found it funny that when William was hitting Thomas, everyone was telling them to stop, but no one actually did anything to stop the fight until Thomas started to get a few punches in. I interpreted that to mean that everyone was pretty happy to see him beaten on just a little.**


	33. Chapter 33

Deciding that the best action in this case would be avoidance, Mr. Carson stayed upstairs until the entire family had gone to bed. He did have to endure congratulations from the Ladies. All this attention was rather more than he felt that he could stand. A good butler should be invisible, not shouting about his love life for the world to hear, drinking with his employer, and receiving smiling congratulations from a gaggle of females. His only hope was that if he remained upstairs long enough the staff would be in bed by the time he went down. If he was very lucky Elsie might have dosed off as well. He really had no hope for any improvement in the night. The highlight of the evening had been seeing Thomas with blood spurting out of his nose, howling in pain. Even gone the man seemed able to cause the most abominable amount of trouble.

Actually, reflecting back over the night as he made his rounds, the highlight had been Elsie's surprised look after he gave her that very thorough kiss. He wasn't sure what exactly had possessed him. It might have been that he was flustered and just a little excited by the hurried changing of his shirt. They'd managed to make the change together quite effectively, he thought. As he reflected over the help she'd given him unbuttoning his shirt, he wondered if his night might not improve just a little after all. Locking the front door, he decided that it was finally time to go downstairs.

Carrying the brandy snifters down, he noticed that it was quiet and dark. He deposited the two glasses in the scullery and saw that the only light seemed to be coming from the open door of his housekeeper's parlor. Sighing, he supposed that he really couldn't avoid this confrontation any longer although he wished he could at least have something to eat. He'd had nothing since tea and was famished. He was grateful that Elsie had apparently managed to get the others off to bed.

Walking into her parlor slowly, wishing to put off the inevitable as long as possible, he was surprised to see a tray with a covered plate sitting on a low table pulled up to the armchair. It also had a glass of milk on it and a piece of cake if he wasn't mistaken. Elsie stood from the sofa, placing her book beside her and came to him.

"Give me your coat, Charles, I'll hang it while you sit down and eat."

Removing his coat silently, he handed it to her, looking at her with a bit of shock.

"Go on, take off your collar and tie if you wish as well," she encouraged.

He continued to stare at her while he obediently took off both tie and collar and handed them to her wordlessly. He unbuttoned the top button on his shirt as well.

"Charles, stop looking at me as if I've grown two heads. Sit down and eat before you fall down."

Sitting down in the armchair and spreading the napkin on his lap, he finally found his voice, "I'm sorry Elsie. This just isn't quite what I was expecting."

"Yes, well, I'm sorry it's only sandwiches. I would have kept something warm for you, but I wasn't sure when you'd be down."

"No, no, the sandwiches are fine. I just meant that I thought- , that is, I was expecting a bit of a confrontation."

"Charles, I-," she began, looking down to gather her thoughts then lifting her eyes to look into his, "I'm very sorry that I pestered you with questions. I should have known that you were stressed. It's just that I was a little surprised to see you so angry. I've never seen you actually be violent. You've had a very difficult night, and you must be hungry so eat."

He supposed his mouth must have gaped a little. She looked at him with a little bit of irritation, "You needn't look so shocked. I have been known to apologize when I'm in the wrong. It is just exceedingly rare that I am in the wrong."

He couldn't help himself. He leaned back and roared with laughter, "Thank goodness. I was beginning to think my Elsie had been replaced."

Elsie looked at him sternly and then began to laugh herself.

After his laughter subsided, he tucked into the sandwiches with relish. When he was halfway through his third sandwich, he began to slow down a little. Looking over at Elsie thoughtfully, he said, "I told his Lordship about us tonight."

Elsie smiled down at her lap, "Yes, I know."

"How could you possibly know so soon?" then as realization dawned, he answered his own question, "the Ladies!"

She nodded smiling, "Yes, Lady Sybil snuck downstairs to give me her best wishes. Anna and Gwen were quite happy for us. Miss O'Brien scolded me, and apparently Mrs. Patmore knew the moment we met each other that we were meant for each other."

He laughed with her at the predictable responses.

"Elsie, if I go to the vicar tomorrow and he reads the banns starting this Sunday then we could be married in just over two weeks time. Would you be willing to marry me so soon?"

"Charles, I do not think seven years could be considered too soon."

"No, I don't suppose it could be," he agreed with a smile and began to eat his cake.

When he had finished, Elsie rose to carry the dishes into the scullery. As she came back into the room, she saw that Charles had removed his shoes and had his feet stretched before him, leaning back in the chair with his eyes closed. She stopped to look at him affectionately for a moment. Poor, dear man; he was exhausted. She lifted the rug from the back of her sofa and crossed to the armchair to cover him. She was shocked enough when he grasped her wrist to give a small start and a cry. He opened his eyes to look at her, not at all wearily.

"If I am going to deal with you as I promised, then you should close and lock the door."

"Yes, Charles," she said with widened eyes, breath quickening.

As she came back from locking the door, she saw that he had sat up and was watching her approach. She stood by his chair watching his eyes for some sign of his intentions. He grinned suddenly and grabbed her waist, pulling her into her lap. She let out a yelp of surprise that turned into a small laugh. Her laugh was cut off by a very serious kiss. She raised her hand to work toward the buttons of his shirt. He caught her hand and pulled back to whisper in her ear, "Not tonight. Tonight I ravish you."

Her eyes closed, and her breath quickened at the thought and at the note of gentle command in his voice. She nodded slightly against his cheek and let her hand fall to her side. He kissed the line of her jaw, trailing a path back to her lips. He kissed her lips softly, tracing her lips lightly with his tongue. When she tried to deepen the kisses, he pulled back slightly so that she could only feel his ragged breaths on her lips. She understood. He needed her to trust him and wanted control. She relaxed against his arm. She trusted him completely. He would never harm her in any way. She honored him with her complete surrender.

As she relaxed against him, he knew she understood his desire. He wanted tonight to be about her. He cherished her and wanted to show her what his words could not express. The fact that he would receive great pleasure from this as well was only icing on the cake. "_A very lovely cake and very tasty icing_," he thought with a smile. His lips returned to their gentle teasing of hers while he lifted his hand to work on the buttons of her dress.

As he worked buttons loose, his hand traced the lines of her neck. He ran his fingers lightly over the muscles of her throat, pausing as he felt her pulse racing. When he'd finally released her collarbone from its confines, he dipped his head to place a kiss there and sucked the skin lightly. She whimpered a little at his kiss and her hips writhed in his lap. He lifted his head to calm himself for a moment and saw her small frown while she stilled her hips. His hand began to work the buttons of her dress again until he was no longer revealing bare skin, but bothersome corset. Kissing his way down her breastbone, he gently sucked the curve of breast rising above her corset. Her breaths were rapid and short, a flush spreading across her chest.

"Stand up so that we can get rid of this blasted thing," he said with a trace of exasperated amusement.

She looked at him with flushed face and dilated eyes, "I don't know that I can. Stand, that is. I'm not even entirely sure that I remember how."

He stared at her for a long moment as he wondered exactly how to negotiate getting the rest of their clothing off if she was unable to move from his lap. The flush receded a little, and she did stand then, albeit on slightly shaky legs. He stood up quickly behind her to support her, pushing her dress off her shoulders. He unfastened her corset quickly, reflecting that practice could make one quite adept at such a thing. Deciding that he would prefer a more comfortable spot, he scooped her up to lay her on the sofa. Undressing himself quickly, he came to lie beside her. She had calmed a little then, but he quickly stoked the fires by kissing her nipples through her shift. It was so thin as to almost not be there, but he suddenly felt that he wanted nothing between Elsie's flesh and his own. Reaching down he grasped the edge of her shift and lifted it over her head. His mouth immediately found its target as soon as he'd dropped it on the floor. He drew her nipple into his mouth while he massaged her other breast with his hand. Trailing his other hand down her side, he let it rest on her hip, fingers splayed across her bottom. He shifted his fingers then, slipping them under the edge of her undergarment. He pushed her undergarment down her legs, and she kicked them off when he reached her ankles.

Once she was free, he shifted lower, kissing lightly but quickly down her abdomen. She offered no protest, and there was no hesitation on his part. He kissed her center quickly, and then began to tease her with his tongue. He had his hands on her thighs and his thumbs pulling her folds apart. He slipped one of those thumbs inside to stroke her to her release. Her hips bucked and then stilled. He continued his attentions until her thighs began to tremble again. Shifting himself back up to hover over her for just a moment, he entered her smiling at the flush spreading across her chest. He felt the tightening around him of her release immediately and began to move as slowly as he could make himself, pulling back as far as he could stand and then plunging back into her depths. Her moans and whimpers began again as her hips began to writhe. He couldn't hold himself back any longer. His thrusts became shorter and frantic as he neared his release. Then his cry joined her moans as his hips stilled. He held himself up on his elbows for a moment so that he could kiss her neck and lips. Then as his arms began to tremble he moved to lie against the back of the sofa with her melded against him.

They lay there catching their breath. He held her against his chest while she purred. He certainly hoped that no one would need anything from him for a very long time. He was fairly sure that he couldn't actually move. He couldn't even quite garner the strength to raise his eyelids to look at her. She began to stroke his chest, then her hands stilled. "Charles, are you done ravishing me?"

He laughed a little in surprise, "Elsie, I should hope that was enough. It was certainly my best effort."

"Oh, yes, Charles, that was more than-, that was-. You are quite welcome to 'deal' with me anytime you wish. I only wanted to know if I was allowed to touch you now."

"Yes, Elsie, you are allowed to touch me now, as long as you don't expect anything from me until at least tomorrow night," he said as he pulled the rug over them both.

Lying beside him she traced lazy circles on his chest while listening to his snores. She couldn't sleep and didn't really want to. She had had a difficult night as well, although Charles had just gone a long way toward making it much better. Much, much better. While he had dealt with the upstairs, she had had to endure the stares below. Mrs. Patmore had blessedly been shocked enough by Charles' action that she had said very little, but Elsie braced herself to hear more tomorrow. Miss O'Brien's attitude of shocked outrage had almost made Elsie want to punch _her _in the nose. Anna and Mr. Bates had been the only ones to keep clear heads and had got Thomas out of the house with a minimum of fuss. Thomas had blustered for a bit that he would like to 'have a go at old Carson'. However when Mr. Bates had offered to get the butler so he could do just that, Thomas had hurried on his way. Elsie smiled at the memory. Seeing Thomas leave the house for hopefully the last time had been the best part of the night.

No, it had been the second best, third best now. The best part hadn't been until just now. The second best had been helping Charles to change his shirt, and his indignant speech followed by that very thorough kiss. She hadn't meant to get him so riled. His cold anger as he stood over Thomas had been very frightening, and she couldn't imagine what could have possibly made him so angry. She had been curious and thought that she might tease him out of his anger just a little. She had certainly not meant to make things worse for him, but she had. For that, her apology was to ensure that he would not have to deal with the curious glances or comments of the staff, tonight anyway, and to make sure he got a decent meal. Once William had come down without him, she knew he would probably stay upstairs until the last possible moment to avoid the others.

She was far too wound up emotionally to sleep. Charles' very thorough lovemaking had only wound her up more. She wondered if she should get up and move around. She thought about making some cocoa or having a small glass of whiskey to calm herself down. Charles' arms tightened around her, and he murmured her name in his sleep. She decided that she was content to lie here and hold the man she loved. She lay there quietly stroking his chest until she felt that it was likely time to be up and about. Looking at the clock, she saw it was 4:30. She tilted her head to kiss the underside of Charles jaw to wake him. He grunted and drew her closer. She decided to try a different tactic and shifted up on her elbows to kiss his lips.

He returned her kiss and gripped the back of her head to hold her closer while his other hand strayed up her back to the side of her breast. She pulled back laughing, "I thought you said not to expect anything until at least tonight."

"It's not tonight?"

"No, it's morning and time for you to head off to your own room to change."

"I could stay here and sneak upstairs while everyone else is having breakfast?" he asked hopefully.

"No, you will not. You will face the staff this morning with me."

"Evil woman," he said with a smile in his voice as he pushed himself up.

Dressing quickly, if a little haphazardly, they headed for the stairs. To avoid any further temptation, Charles led Elsie up to the servants' rooms. She pulled him down for a quick kiss before heading off to their separate rooms, surprising Daisy who was just beginning her day. Elsie started to pull away, embarrassed, but Charles tightened his arms around her. "Is there any need to pretend, Elsie?"

She smiled up at him, "No, I suppose not."


	34. Chapter 34

**EPILOGUE**

Elsie dressed, heading downstairs to begin the day. She was not quite sure how to behave. They'd spent so long hiding their feelings from everyone else that she wasn't sure what to do. Resolving to go on as though nothing had happened, she reminded herself that she was not one to be overly demonstrative in public and resolved that she would just keep herself to herself. Walking into the servant's dining room, she saw that everyone but Charles was there. Bracing herself, she crossed to her usual place. William glanced sideways at Daisy, and she was sure that he at least knew what she'd seen earlier. Really, everyone knowing the intimate details of one's life was mortifying.

Charles entered then, straightening his waistcoat. He glanced around the room quickly and came to the head of the table. Standing for a moment, he said, "Good morning everyone, shall we eat?" and sat down. _Rather anticlimactic_, Elsie thought wryly. Then he turned to her and said softly, "Good morning, Elsie."

The glances that turned their way at his greeting only increased her embarrassment. She began to tap her finger nervously on the table, and said, "Good morning, Charles." He stilled her hand with his own and smiled gently into her eyes. Then, leaving his hand on hers, he looked levelly at each person at the table. "_Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Miss O'Brien!"_ Elsie thought with satisfaction, smiling back at Charles, relaxing visibly.

The rest of the meal was eaten with a minimum of fuss. Everyone knew that the bells would be ringing soon, and they needed to hurry if they were going to get anything down before continuing their day. Elsie realized that thoughts of their relationship were gradually drifting to the back of everyone's minds, and she was quite content with that thought. As she was privately congratulating Charles for his nonchalance, he naturally and jarringly yanked their relationship from the back of everyone's mind to pretty much the middle of the table. Glancing over at her, he said quite clearly, "Elsie, I'll be running down to the village later to make arrangements with the vicar. Are there any errands that I could do for you?"

She looked at him, slightly shocked. _He'd just tossed her to the wolves! What was he thinking!_ Taking in his amused glance and raised eyebrows, she knew full well what he was thinking: _Revenge_. She was most certainly not going to take this lying down, at least not right now. Smiling back at him, she said, "Just a bit of lace, dear, and something blue." Then, standing, she left the room.

Charles did not make it back from the village in time for luncheon. Elsie was surprised that most of the staff had very little to say to her regarding the relationship, and she didn't even happen on any quickly shushed conversations. There were some curious glances, but they were easily ignored. Yes, Charles' casual acknowledgment of the relationship seemed to leave very little for anyone to say. She had to admit to herself that he did know how to deal with some of these situations effectively. She was not entirely sure that she should admit it to him; however, it would likely make him too smug to stand.

Coming back to her parlor to rest after her tiring afternoon meeting with Lady Grantham, Elsie was surprised to see a small package along with an odd assortment of items on her desk. She walked over to look at them, and Charles came to her door. He must have been watching for her. She looked up, "You spoke to the vicar?"

"Yes, the banns will be read starting Sunday, and we'll be married in just over two weeks time. Don't you want to open your package?" he asked impatiently, walking over to stand by her at the table.

"Charles, you know I was just teasing. You didn't have to…"

He picked up the frilly bit of lace tied with a ribbon, "'Something new', you specified a 'bit of lace'," handing it to her.

He picked up the next item, "'Something borrowed', my handkerchief which you'll likely need since you're such a sentimental lass." She took it from him with a small laugh.

Picking up the coin, he said, "'A lucky sixpence for your shoe', look at the date." Taking it from him she saw that the date was 1902. "A lucky year indeed," she replied smiling.

"And finally, will you open your package?" he asked looking at her expectantly.

She opened it to find a broach of two intertwined hearts with a crown enameled in blue. She gasped in surprise, "A luckenbooth! Charles, how did you ever find such a thing in this village?"

"I didn't. I bought that item six years ago in London. I believe that it would be 'something blue'?"

"Six years ago," she asked curiously, "and you kept it all this time?"

He nodded, "I told you I had made inquiries about the shop. I had planned to give this to you then. I wish I had."

"I wish you hadn't felt that you couldn't," she replied sadly.

"And that, my dear, is the last we should say about the past," he said as he drew her in his arms.

Smiling against his chest, she said, "Of course. Now what about 'something old'?"

"Will I do for that?"

"I think you might," she said smiling.

Drawing him to her, they kissed with all the passion of their past and hope for their future.

**THE END**

**Thank you so much if you have stuck with this to the end. I hope it has been somewhat enjoyable. I greatly appreciate your reviews. Just a quick word on why I wrote this. From the scene about families in episode 1 forward, I thought that Carson and Hughes had some type of romantic past together. I think it could be anything from a 'one night stand' to a serious relationship. I chose to make it this. I also felt that they seemed to warm toward each other as series one continued. Of course, series two will probably make all this speculation worthless, but it was fun to play with them for awhile.**


End file.
